Love For Rent
by Divine Sally Bowles
Summary: MarkOC, RogerMimi, MoJo. One year later, and things are changing for the bohemians. Mimi's pregnant. And Mark Cohen finally has a girlfriend. Oh, the insanity... Rated T for language and sexual content. Edit: Ch 24 up and COMPLETE! Sequel is BURNING UP!
1. I Am A Camera

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rent. I wish I did (more specifically, I wish I owned Mark ) but that's another story entirely. I do, however, own the character of Trai Buscemi, her family, and her friends.**

Love For Rent

Chapter One

I Am A Camera

"C'mon, Mark. Get up."

Mark Cohen sighed and rolled over so that he was lying facedown on his pillow. "There's no point," he mumbled.

Roger Davis proceeded to take one of the pillows on the bed and smack Mark with it. "Yes, there's no point," he agreed. "There's no point in being depressed over not having a girl if you don't get your ass out there and actually date!"

"Tell that to Benny and Collins."

"Benny's divorced, and it's only been a year since Angel."

"And suddenly you're Mr. Relationship?" Mark remarked, looking up at his friend with an accusing glare, which was more of an accusing squint since Mark wasn't wearing his glasses.

Roger rolled his eyes and threw the pillow at his best friend, trying to keep his temper as he told his friend, "Mark, I'm not letting you wallow anymore. It's been two years since Maureen dumped you and now you are going to actually go out on a date."

"Yeah. Good luck with that. If I recall, you did the exact same thing after Apr—"

"Don't bring her into this!" Roger warned heatedly. "Mark, as far as I can tell, you have absolutely _no_ reason to be as depressed as I was! Tell me this, Mark. Did _your_ girlfriend kill herself in _your_ bathroom? Did _your_ girlfriend get you addicted to a fucking drug whose withdrawal felt like it could kill you? Did she give you a fucking disease that _will_?"

Mark stayed silent.

He hated having a best friend who was assertive.

* * *

December 24th, 1991. 8 PM, Eastern Standard Time.

It was as normal a Christmas as it could be for the bohemians. Things were changing, and fast.

Roger had proposed to Mimi during that summer, and the wedding was to be in February. However, Mimi had one secret that she hadn't told anyone—she suspected she was pregnant, and was considering not keeping the baby.

Maureen and Joanne were committed, surprisingly. Though Maureen was still a bit of a flirt, she kept it friendly, and Joanne had agreed to relent a little in her constant watch over Maureen's life.

Collins and Benny were slowly putting their lives back in order. Benny had divorced Allison when it became clear their marriage wasn't working out, and Collins was back to teaching after a sabbatical, slowly starting to consider dating again.

As always, Mark was alone.

Maureen had dumped him two years before, as Roger had been so quick to remind him, and even though Mark desperately wanted some kind of relationship, he was having a hard time putting himself back out there after his previous experiences. He'd dated Maureen since they were teenagers, and she'd been pretty much his only relationship. Besides, he wasn't looking forward to the ordeal he'd have to put any potential girlfriends through. He'd have to admit what had happened with Maureen. His parents would want to meet her.

And then there was introducing the poor girl to his friends, which was another story entirely…

* * *

Mimi stared hard at the sink in front of her and bit her lip.

"Shit," she whispered, leaning back slowly against the wall of the bathroom.

She'd taken two tests.

Both were positive.

Mimi slowly slid to the floor, putting her head in her hands. She had no idea what to do, or how to tell Roger. They'd gone back and forth on the kids issue before, deciding almost every time that they didn't want to have kids for fear of spreading their virus to their child.

And now she was pregnant.

_Fuck_.

Mimi heard the door to the loft open and stiffened, quickly throwing the tests into the trash and covering them with tissues. She prayed it wasn't Roger.

"Meems, baby? I'm home…"

No such luck, apparently.

Mimi slowly came out of the bathroom, smiling, a little weakly, at Roger as he set down his guitar case and shrugged off his leather jacket. He'd just returned from a gig.

"Hey, baby," she greeted him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. He wrapped his arms around his fiancée and held her close, breathing in her scent for a moment before he murmured, "You weren't at the gig. Everything okay?"

Mimi bit her lip. She had to tell him. They had to decide.

"We need to talk," she said quietly.

Roger pulled away for a bit so he could look her into the eyes, concerned. "Baby…?"

Mimi led him slowly to the couch, sitting him down but remaining standing herself. Roger took her hands gently in his, asking softly, "Mimi, what's wrong?"

Mimi looked away and whispered, "I'm pregnant."

Roger felt his jaw drop, and if he hadn't been sitting down he probably would have passed out. This… this was _not _supposed to happen.

"I… I… fuck," Roger whispered.

"I know," Mimi said quietly.

"_Fuck_," Roger repeated.

"I know," Mimi whispered, blinking back tears. She was scared, so scared.

"How long have you known?" Roger asked quietly.

"I suspected for the last week or so… I only took a test today…"

"And it was positive?"

"Twice," Mimi whispered.

"Shit…"

"Roger… what do we do?"

Roger let go of her hands and pressed the heel of his right hand to his eyes. "I don't know," he said quietly. "This… this wasn't supposed to happen…"

Mimi sat down with a heavy sigh. "Should I…?" She couldn't say it.

Roger looked away and whispered, "I… Meems, I don't know… I really don't."

They'd agreed months ago not to have kids, but now that Mimi was pregnant, he wasn't sure anymore. He just didn't know.

"I need to think," Roger said quietly.

Mimi nodded. "I understand…"

Roger sighed and got up, gently kissing Mimi on the forehead before he went out the window and up the fire escape to go talk to Mark.

* * *

Some days Mark really wanted to seriously reconsider his vow to shoot without a script.

Mark sighed in frustration and turned off the projector, giving up on his editing work. He was trying to piece together a new documentary… about what, he wasn't quite sure of yet. Something along the lines of "Today 4 U", but with the focus this time on the role of AIDS in the life of his friends and its place in their art.

Between everything he'd taken Roger's advice and was trying to meet girls.

Most were turned off by the camera.

The knock at the window was an extremely welcome interruption.

Mark unlocked the window for Roger and motioned him inside. He noticed the expression on Roger's face and ordered him, "Talk."

Roger sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh, scrubbing his eyes with his palms. "Mimi's pregnant," he managed in a near-whisper.

"Holy fuck," Mark said slowly, sinking down next to his friend. "When did she tell you?"

"Just before, when I got back from CBGB's… both tests she took were positive…"

"Do you want to… keep it?" Mark asked, slowly.

Roger sighed in frustration. "That's just it… I don't _know_. We said months ago that we wouldn't have children. As much as I want kids… I don't want to give my kid this… this fucking disease… and no adoption agency would touch our family with a ten-foot pole," he said with a bitter laugh.

"You're right on that… but still. Some kind of decision has to be made…"

"I know," Roger said quietly. "I know."

Mark slowly said, "Look, I was going to go out and shoot… you want to walk with me?"

Roger shook his head slowly. "No, it's okay. I… I need to talk to Mimi. You can go." He managed a weak smile and cuffed his friend on the shoulder. "Go pick up some chick."

"Yeah. Okay. Central Park at night with a camera; that'll work."

Roger shrugged. "You never know."

* * *

Mark walked slowly around Central Park, his camera on and filming, just… thinking. Things had been pretty off lately. And now Mimi was pregnant.

He inhaled and then slowly exhaled.

_This is so fucked up._

Mark lowered his camera to look around and realized that he was by the duck pond. He had to smile at that. _The Catcher in the Rye _had been one of his favorite novels as a teenager, God only knew why. Mark had never really been much of a rebel, though he was, in his own right, a bit of a smartass like Holden.

"Hey, Holden!"

_Okay… what the fuck? That was weird…_

Mark turned to find the source of the shout. The only one around was a young girl sitting on a bench by the pond. Slowly, he approached her and realized that she wasn't too young—she was around his age.

"Hold still for a sec?" the girl asked him. He gave her a quizzical look, but she merely bent closer over something propped against her knees, which were drawn up to the bench. On closer inspection he saw that it was a notebook.

She finally glanced up and shut the notebook, crossing her legs under her and setting down her pen. "Sorry. I just—I needed you for a sec. You look just like one of my characters."

"Are you an artist?" he asked curiously. She was pretty, he saw. Blond, from what he could tell in the half-darkness. Her hair fell to a little past her shoulders, and it was a little wavy. She was dressed in a gray sweater and jeans, with aging black-and-white Chuck Taylors on her feet. A beige backpack was leaning half-open against the bench.

"No," she said with a smile. "I'm a writer, actually."

"Would you mind if I sit?"

The girl shook her head. "No problem. Are you a filmmaker?"

Mark nodded. "If I leave the camera on…?"

"No problem," she assured him with another smile. "I think it's cute. My character is the same way—filmmaker, always carrying his camera."

"What kind of novels do you write? Anything I might know?"

"Novel. Singular. And, ah… if I told you what I write… you'd laugh."

Mark raised an eyebrow. This girl was interesting. "I won't," he promised.

"You will. Trust me. It's… not exactly common," she said with a weak grin. "I write romance."

"Like… paperback romances? Harlequins?"

"Sure, let's go with that. But there's more."

"Please elaborate."

"It's erotic," she said, and had it not been so dark, Mark was sure he would have seen her blushing. "And kind of… paranormal," she said in a rush.

Mark bit his lip to hide a smile. "That's… that's pretty interesting, I have to admit."

"You're not laughing," the girl said, surprised.

"Trust me, I know what it's like to have people laugh at you. My friends still laugh at me over something that happened two years ago."

"Do I want to know?"

"My girlfriend left me for a woman."

"I'm a romance writer and that's… that's a new one," said the girl with a slight chuckle. She smiled and offered her hand. "My name's Trai Buscemi. Nice to meet you."

"Mark Cohen," Mark said with a smile, taking her hand and shaking it. "Do you live around here?"

"Yeah, I'm in the East Village. My boyfriend and I share an apartment."

Mark felt his heart sink a little. She had a boyfriend.

_Whoa, whoa. Back up. You've known this girl less than twenty minutes. Why are you getting attracted?_

_Maybe because I haven't had sex in two years._

_You could actually like her, dumbass._

_Am I really having this conversation with myself?_

"I live on Avenue B," he told her. "The industrial lofts… old music factory, far as we've ever been able to tell. My friends and I… we're squatters."

"Bit of a rebel, huh?" she teased. "Guess I wasn't so far off with the Holden comparison."

"Are you a fan of the book?"

"One of my favorites."

"Mine too," he said with a smile.

Trai grinned at him and checked her watch. "Shit. I was supposed to be home for dinner; my parents are over… I just came out here to think. It was really nice meeting you, Mark. Thanks for being a model—most people freak out." She stood and shoved her notebook into her bag, giving him a small kiss on the cheek.

"Listen," Mark said, "if you need any help—filmmaking questions or anything… d'you want my address?"

Trai gave him a grateful smile. "That'd be wonderful, actually. I could use all the help I can get." She gave him her pen and held out her hand; he quickly scrawled his address and phone number.

_So is it a crime that I want something more to happen between us?_

_She's taken, you idiot._

_Things change._

_She'd never go for someone like you and you know it._

"Thanks, Mark, seriously," she told him as he handed her the pen. "You're a gentleman and a scholar."

"Glad I can help. And thanks—for letting me film."

"Was only returning an artistic favor. It was great meeting you."

"You too," he said. She gave him another kiss on the cheek and ran off.

Mark could've flown home to his loft.


	2. Miss Halfway

Chapter Two

Miss Halfway

"Mom? Dad? Jase? I'm home!"

Trai hollered to the apartment at large as she kicked the door shut behind her, pulling off her trench coat and hanging it on the hook.

"I'm really sorry I'm late; I—mmm… hello to you too," she said to her boyfriend, who greeted her with a kiss. He wrapped his arm around her waist, brushing her lower back, when suddenly Trai flinched and pulled away.

"Baby? You all right?" Jason asked her.

"Yeah… ow… shit," Trai whispered, tenderly rubbing her lower back. "My back just hurts… I think it's from scrubbing the floors or something… I'm okay," she assured him. "I'm okay," she whispered.

Jason gave her a warning look, and Trai bit her lip hard. He let go of her and went into the kitchen. Trai followed him.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" was her mom's first question. "We got worried when you were late. You shouldn't be out in the park alone."

"I keep telling you, Mom; I know what I'm doing," Trai insisted. "I go out there at least once a week. Right, Jason?"

"She spends more time in the park than she does sleeping in bed."

"See? I'm like a fish in water there, Mom. It's no problem."

Her mom looked like she wanted to say something more, but Trai shushed her and said, "Mom? Go to the living room, okay? When the food is ready you can come back in. Here—enthrall yourself with my press clippings…"

When her mom was finally out of the kitchen Trai breathed a sigh of relief. Her father smiled a little and said, "Trai, she means well, really."

"I'm twenty-seven, Dad. For God's sake, I can handle living away from home. She was the same way when I was in Dartmouth."

"She just wants to make sure that nothing happens to you like it did to Danny," her father said softly.

Trai said quietly, "Dad… is something wrong with Danny? I haven't heard from him in a week, and that's strange."

Her dad put a hand on her arm and said softly, "Maybe you should sit…"

"What could possibly b—"

Her dad carefully made her sit and then said slowly, "Sweetie… the doctor told him his T-cell count is low. He… he doesn't have much longer, Trai."

"Oh my god… oh my god…" Trai whispered. She shut her eyes against tears, and her dad took her free hand. The motion made the sleeve of her blouse fall back, revealing a pink, new-looking scar.

"Honey, what's this?" he asked her, concerned.

Trai looked up sharply. "It's nothing, Dad. Remember when Danny and I got into that fight when I was sixteen? It's from then."

"It looks new."

"I reopened it by accident. I'm fine, Dad, really."

Mr. Buscemi held his daughter's gaze for a long time. There was something she wasn't telling him.

"Dad… don't start. Not now," Trai whispered. "Not now. Please…"

After another five minutes of uncomfortable silence, Jason announced dinner was ready. The dinner consisted of somewhat forced small talk, mostly compliments on the food, before gifts were exchanged and Trai managed to get her parents out of the door at a quarter to ten.

Once they were out and down the stairs, Jason grabbed her hand and studied the writing on it. "What's this?" he demanded.

Trai ripped her hand away. "I met someone at the park, all right? He answered some questions for me. I needed them to write my book."

"Don't start with me. You got someone on the side?"

"No! Why would I d—_aah!_ Jason, fuck! What was that…" she trailed off, pressing her sleeve to her now-bleeding mouth.

"You know _damn_ well what that was for," her boyfriend hissed. "You fucking _whore_! I _told_ you that you'd regret it if you ever ch—"

"Yeah? I'll regret it, huh? Is this any different from the fifteen other fucking things you told me I'd _regret?"_ Trai demanded heatedly. "Jason, what the fuck do you want from me? I have done everything you have asked me to do!"

He slapped her once, hard, across the face. She breathed in sharply and blinked away tears of pain. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"You fucking whore," he whispered, and stormed into the bedroom.

Trai went into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She pressed some tissues to her mouth to stop the bleeding and finally stripped off her clothes, very carefully, wincing as she stepped into the steaming hot shower she'd put on. She bit her lip hard as the water stung against her back, and tried not to think about the mottled mess of bruises and scars lining her back.

"What did I do?" she whispered, shutting her eyes and leaning back into the spray. "What did I do to deserve this?"

* * *

The morning after the encounter in the park, on Christmas, Mark woke to a knock at the door. 

He blinked and blearily surveyed the digital clock. 9 AM. He'd overslept, but he was up now. He pulled on a shirt, not bothering with pants since it was likely Roger and Mimi, who wouldn't care either way, and opened the door.

"Trai!" he said with surprise.

"Oh! Oh, God, I'm sorry!" Trai ducked and covered her eyes. "I—I can come back later."

"No. No, it's okay. Come in." Mark took her wrist, pulling her to the couch and hurrying into his room, slightly embarrassed and a little unnerved that his body was having a _very_ obvious reaction to her seeing him the way she had. He took a breath, trying to get himself back under control—and his mind back from the places he really didn't want it going.

_She's taken. Get that through your head._

Finally, Mark pulled on a pair of jeans and smoothed his hair a bit before going back out to the living room. "Sorry," he said, still slightly embarrassed.

"Mark, I am _so_ sorry. That was entirely my fault. I should've called, I—"

"Holy crap, are you okay?" Mark asked, realizing that she had an ugly-looking bruise on her face, near her mouth, half-hidden by her hair, which she'd let down. _Was that there last night?_

"I'm fine. I slipped in the shower this morning. I'm fine."

"No. That needs ice," Mark told her. He got up and wrapped some ice in a towel, handing it to her to press to her mouth. "Any better?"

"A little sore," she admitted. "It'll pass. I came to see if you'd mind reading part of my draft for me? I need a sort of… fact check, I guess, on the filmmaking parts. Morrie, my agent, and I like accuracy… I'm really sorry if it's an imposition…"

"Not at all," Mark told her, smiling slightly. "I'd love to."

"Thank you _so _much." She rummaged through her bag, producing a number of obscure and slightly bizarre items before coming up with a stapled stack of about twenty pages."I'm sorry they're a bit messy… my typewriter likes to screw with me."

Mark started to read. After about two pages he looked up. "This is really good," he said, slightly astonished. "You're amazing."

Trai looked away, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Thank you. It's very sweet of you to say that. But I've only written one novel… one very underwhelmingly received novel. To tell you the truth, Mark, I write half-rate romances."

"But you could do so much better if you wanted to."

"I know. But for now, I'm happy. It pays decently, and I like it."

Mark smiled. "All that matters, then. Listen, if this filmmaking thing is going to figure throughout the whole book… you want to make this a standing date?"

Trai smiled. "I'd love to."

* * *

Roger climbed the stairs to Mark's loft later that evening. He hadn't seen Mark all day, and he was a little concerned. 

He opened the door and raised an eyebrow. "Cohen?"

"Roger!" Mark hurriedly shoved the book he was reading into the couch and sat up.

Roger crossed his arms over his chest with a smirk. "Cohen, were you reading a romance novel?"

"No."

Roger lunged for the side of the couch, grabbing the book and holding it out of Mark's reach, despite his protests. He opened it to a random page and read aloud. "'Oh, Frederick, my loins—'… Cohen, the hell do _you_ need to jer—?"

"It's _not_ for that!" Mark cut in, blushing furiously.

"So you regularly read romance novels?" Roger asked, smiling still, very clearly enjoying this. "Ones like…" He flipped the book over to read the cover. "… _Love Always _by Trai Buscemi? This is some racy shit, man."

"For your information—_give_ me that—I met her in the park yesterday. She's writing a book about a filmmaker and needed my input. She gave me a draft to read and I asked about her other book. I went home today for a couple hours; Mom and Cindy read romance shit and they had this lying around."

"Does your girlfriend know you call her stuff 'romance shit'?"

"We've only talked twice, and for your information, she's taken."

"And here we have Mark Cohen, the only male human specimen able to attract solely lesbians and girls who're taken."

"Shut up. Have you and Mimi reached a decision?" Mark asked, wanting to get off of the Trai subject.

Roger sat down on the couch. "Yeah."

"And…?"

"We're going to keep it," Roger said quietly.

Mark had to smile. "That's great, Roger. That's totally great."

"I don't know, man," Roger said with a sigh. "I don't think I can do this whole dad thing."

"I thought you wanted kids."

"I do, but— I don't know. I fucked up; who's to say that my kid won't do the same?"

"Because you'll be there," Mark reminded him. "You will be there to ensure that your child doesn't go down the same path you did."

"Are you sure?" Roger said quietly.

"I'm positive."

Roger reached over to hug his friend. "Thanks, man."

"No problem." Mark hugged him back. "Scary thought here… this time next year, you'll be a dad."

Roger didn't say anything. Mark looked over at his friend, who had suddenly gone very pale. "Rog?"

"Okay… that really… did _not_ hit me until you said it."

* * *

Angela Jamison had known Trai Buscemi for a number of years. So when she met Trai for their weekly coffee and found her sitting distractedly on the couch in the coffee house reading _The Bell Jar_, Angie's first thought was _Well, this isn't good._

They'd met at Dartmouth during a book club meeting, and had become fast friends over their mutual liking of musicals and similar tastes in reading. Trai had been with Angie through a lot, as had Angie with Trai. Angie had helped Trai get over her breakup with her then-boyfriend, Ethan Palmer, and Trai had gotten Angie through a bad breakup with her girlfriend Norah Goldberg. Angie was bisexual, but Trai was encouraging, pretty much open to anything, and had never judged.

Still, after eight years, Angie knew her friend well. Two signals of depression: _The Bell Jar _and _The Catcher in the Rye_. The latter was a worse sign than the former, but either one wasn't good.

"Morning, sweetie." Angie announced her presence in the coffee house by flopping down on the couch and kissing Trai lightly on the cheek.

"Ang! Hey." Trai smiled widely and hugged her friend, setting down the worn copy of her book. "What's up?"

"Nothing really," Angie said with a dismissive wave. She pointed to the Sylvia Plath novel lying innocently on the table. "Did you break up with Jason or something?"

"No. Why would you say that?"

"Honey, the only time you seek companionship with Esther or Holden is when you're depressed. And the last time I saw you depressed was when you broke up with Ethan. Well, beyond when your manuscript was rejected. But I digress. You okay?"

"Angie. Jesus. It's a _book_."

"A book that you only read when your life sucks or you think it does," Angie pointed out.

As if by magic, their normal waitress, Betsy, appeared. "The usual, ladies?"

Both Trai and Angie nodded distractedly. When Betsy left, Trai looked at Angie and said slowly, "I haven't been having a good couple of days, all right?"

"You wanna talk?"

"Do I ever?"

She had a point. Trai wasn't the most vocal about her feelings; if anything they usually went into her writing rather than the spoken word.

Angie took her friend's hand. "Trai, whatever it is, I'm here."

Trai looked away and said quietly, "Danny's dying."

Shocked, Angie gave her best friend's hand a comforting squeeze, and said softly, "How long have you known?"

"Since three days ago, when my parents came over… Angie, I… I can't lose him…"

"I know, sweetie," Angie whispered, pulling Trai into a hug. "I know."

Though she'd never said anything to Trai, Angie had been involved with Danny for almost seven years. Trai had introduced Danny and Angie when Danny had come up from Harvard for Christmas, and they'd hit it off, though neither of them had wanted to reveal their relationship to Trai.

Angie had stuck by Danny through a lot—a broken foot he'd sustained in junior year that had kept him from playing football, the reason for his scholarship; helping him study for his bar exam over the phone; his diagnosis with HIV; his withdrawal from heroin. Trai didn't know it, but Angie had almost always seen both sides to the story. She'd witnessed Trai's breakdown after finding her brother almost dead one Christmas; she'd visited Danny in the hospital and held him as he cried and she did too.

Angela Jamison had become the rock.

Angie gently pushed Trai's hair behind her ear. "He'll be okay, Trai," she said softly. "I promise. If anything… he'll hold on for you."

"I hope so," Trai whispered, closing her eyes. "I hope so…"

* * *

**A/N- Hey everybody! I'm so glad you guys like the story!**

**Tina101- Oh, it gets better, trust me, haha. :) I'm also a big fan of cliffhangers.**

**OnEtHoUsAnDsWeEtKiSsEs- The MoJo is coming; they intro at Chapter Three (if all goes as planned) with Collins and Benny.**

**MeredithGrey- Love the pen name; I'm a Grey's fan as well (my fic "Drowning" is a Grey's oneshot). I agree; it's too weird for me to picture Collins with anyone else. He'll probably end up single. (BTW- in my mind, Ellen Pompeo is Trai!)**

**CardboardCreative- Thanks for the praise on Trai and Mark's conversation; I was actually afraid it was too jumpy. And actually, as long as certain precautions are taken, the risk of HIV being transferred to the baby can be drastically lowered. Wikipedia has some stats if you're interested.**

**I forgot to mention, some of this story also revolves around pop culture. "I Am A Camera", the title of Chapter One, is the name of the play that _Cabaret_ was based on, which in turn was based off of Christopher Isherwood's Berlin Stories. (The quote is "I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking." It fits Mark quite well, in my opinion.) _Cabaret_ will figure later as a part of Mark and Trai's relationship. "Miss Halfway", the title of Chapter Two, is the title of a song by Anya Marina. It's on the soundtrack to Grey's Anatomy's second season. :)**

**Well, I'm glad you liked it! Thanks everybody!**

**- Divine Sally Bowles**


	3. Miniature Disasters

Chapter Three

Miniature Disasters

Angie pulled away from the embrace and got a closer look at Trai's face. "Trai, what's this?" she asked quietly as Betsy came with their coffee—cream for Angie, black for Trai—and rolls.

Trai reached up and tenderly touched the now-discolored bruise Jason had given her two days before. "Slipped in the shower," she said quietly.

Angie gently lifted Trai's face to hers and said softly, "You can't lie to me, Trai. Tell me the truth."

"I'm telling you the truth!" Trai said, a little sharply. Still, looking into her friend's eyes as she said it, Angie detected panic.

"Trai…" Angie bit her lip. "Did Jason do this to you?" she whispered.

"No!" Trai said hurriedly.

Quickly. Too quickly.

She was denying it.

Her hands shaking slightly, betrayed only by a small rattle as she set her plate back onto the table, Trai turned back to her book.

Angie found that the coffee did nothing to dispel the cold.

_He hits her._

_The bastard hits her…

* * *

_

"He hits her."

Daniel Buscemi looked up as Angie came into his hospital room, a copy of _Sports Illustrated_ in one hand and a small bag of food and an umbrella in the other. Her red hair was a bit of a mess, as it was windy outside, and her coat was slick with rain as she took it off and neatly folded it on the chair.

"Morning, sunshine," Danny remarked wryly as Angie sat down on the side of his bed, handing him the magazine. "Much obliged," he told her, giving her a quick kiss.

Angie reciprocated for just a second before she put her hand on his chest, stopping him.

"You heard me, right?" she said, her eyes searching his as she unpacked the food and set it on the tray over his knees. "He hits her."

"Jason?" he questioned softly.

Stunned, shock clear on her face, Angie whispered, "You knew?"

Slowly, Danny nodded.

"Jesus, Danny! Why didn't you tell me?" Angie demanded, upset.

Danny looked away. "I've tried to talk to her," he said quietly. "Whenever I ask her—_however_ I ask her—she denies it. She's scared, Angie…"

"She doesn't love him," Angie said, taking a small sip of the juice she'd brought for them. They shared a meal, usually, when she came to visit him. Since he'd been diagnosed with HIV three years ago, they'd established a ritual for his hospitalizations. It was hardly romantic, but they saved that for when he got out of the hospital. Still, Angie tried desperately to keep Danny happy. As long as he had Trai or Angie, he was.

"She doesn't love him," Angie repeated, quieter.

Danny sighed, trying to think past his headache. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he'd been feeling worse throughout the last few days. "How long's she known him now?"

"Six years. She was 21… bartending…"

"How long do you think he's…?" Danny started.

Angie thought back and shut her eyes, the memories painful, as she thought of how much she hadn't noticed. "She and I were still living together when we were 23… I remember that she used to come home late some nights… some nights she was in a lot of pain," Angie said quietly.

Danny reached out to take Angie's hand, sensing she was getting upset. Angie rested her head on his shoulder and whispered, "I can't do this without you, Dan… I love you, both of you… I can't see her hurting… she's like my sister…"

Danny squeezed her hand. "And she _is_ my sister. I know how helpless this makes you feel… I feel it too… I want to help her, but I… soon I won't be able to."

Angie looked up at him, kissing him very gently. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer. He felt her tears on his cheeks and tried not to cry as well. He loved her so much.

"What did the doctors say?" Angie whispered.

Danny cupped her chin with his palm, wiping away her tears with his thumb. He didn't want to say it.

"Danny?" Angie whispered, her voice strained.

Danny swallowed hard. "A week… maybe two…"

Angie covered her mouth and shut her eyes, crying harder now.

Danny wrapped her in a weak embrace, crying too. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately through her tears, wishing desperately, against hope, that he could live.

"Danny… oh my God… I can't lose you," Angie sobbed. "I love you, I love you…"

"I know, baby," Danny whispered, kissing her and stroking her hair. "I know. I love you, Angie… Angela… but I can't… I can't go on living, Angie. Not the way I am," he whispered to her, lifting her face to his and staring into her red-rimmed eyes. "It's… it'll be better if I die," he whispered.

"But what about me?!" Angie demanded, her voice breaking. "What about your sister? And your family? _What about me?!"_

Danny held Angie close, soothing her gently even as she sobbed and hit him in her fear and frustration, needing an outlet.

"I can't do this, Danny… I need you! I fucking need you!" Angie sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. "You can't do this to me! Not now! _I love you!_ Please, Danny… please… please…"

Watching her plead with him, Danny swore he could feel his heart break. This was his sister's best friend, his girlfriend, who'd fallen for him just as he'd fallen for her. He loved her so much, but there was no way he'd live past the next week.

He knew it. He could feel it.

Danny just held Angie close, unable to speak.

* * *

_"Hi, you've reached Trai and Angie. We're not in right now, but please leave a message and we'll get back to you!" chirped the answering machine recording._

"_Angie? Angie, please… please pick up the phone… I need you…"_

_Trai was sitting in the shower in her bedroom's adjoining bathroom in her family's home out on the Island. She was huddled in the tub, against the wall, fully dressed, the water off. She wasn't in good shape. She prayed Angie would pick up the phone._

_Miles away, just letting herself into the apartment she and Trai shared in the City, Angie heard Trai's voice on the answering machine. She sounded terrible._

_She picked up the phone immediately. "Trai? What's wrong?"_

"_Oh my God… Angie… oh my God…"_

_Trai was panicking. Trai Buscemi never, ever panicked._

"_Trai? Sweetie, what is it? Calm down… what's wrong?"_

"_It's Danny," Trai whispered into the phone, her voice breaking as she hugged her knees close to her chest, trying not to cry._

_Angie's stomach lurched, and she had to catch herself against the couch, suddenly dizzy. A million possibilities occurred to her at once. Had there been an accident? Was he dead? What was going on?_

"_Angie?" Trai whispered, her voice broken, defeated, lost._

_Angie snapped herself back to reality. Her best friend was having a breakdown, a breakdown somehow involving her brother, with whom Angie had been in a relationship for the past two years, something Trai had no knowledge of. She had to stay calm for her best friend. "What is it, sweetie? Is Danny okay?"_

"_No," Trai choked out, pressing a shaky hand to her eyes. "Angie… Danny's… he's in the hospital…"_

"_What happened?" Angie asked, trying not to sound too forceful._

"_Oh God… oh God, Angie… I found him in the bathroom… h-he tried to overdose on heroin… Angie, he's a junkie, he's an addict, he has HIV…"_

_Angie's knees suddenly felt very weak, and she had to sit down. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Oh my God…"_

_Trai dropped the phone, stumbling out of the shower and to the toilet, vomiting from stress, fear, and nerves. She was absolutely terrified. Her brother had been so pale, so cold…_

_After another minute she picked up the phone again, leaning her aching head against the cool tile of the sink. She whispered, "Angie, can you come out to the Island? Please? I c-can't do this alone, Angie… I need you… please, please come…"_

"_Of course, sweetie," Angie whispered, shrugging on her coat already. "I'll be there soon, baby… it'll be okay… I swear it'll be okay…"_

_Trai wordlessly hung up, leaning back against the sink for a moment, trying to get herself together. After a few minutes, she got up and slowly undressed, going into the shower, fumbling with the knobs, turning on the water as hot as she could stand it._

_Once the water was running, she leaned her left arm heavily against the wall and started to shake with sobs._

_Suddenly she heard the door rattle. Figuring it was Jason, she called, "Jase, I… just… give me a minute…" Jason had never seen her cry, ever. The only two people that had were Angie and Danny._

_The noise didn't stop. The door was forced open._

"_Jason?" Trai whispered. "What's—?"_

_Her boyfriend drew back the shower curtain, starting to strip off his clothes as he climbed into the shower with her, shoving her hard against the wall._

"_Don't scream," he whispered, forcefully. Trai kicked out, trying to struggle. He slammed her back again, and she felt a sharp pain.  
__  
He smiled the whole time._

_Once he was done, he punched her in the jaw, leaving a burning pain that was almost blissfully not as severe as the pain in the rest of her body. She felt blood trickling down her face._

"_If you ever tell anyone, you bitch, you whore, I will find you, and I will kill you," he hissed, pushing her to the floor of the shower and leaving her to cry once more, alone._

_Slowly, Trai shut her eyes against the pain and carefully began to clean herself up, wiping away the blood that covered her face and her legs._

_Then she left the bathroom and fell onto her bed, praying for sleep.

* * *

_

"Roger! Hey," Joanne Jefferson cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear, looking over at Maureen Johnson, her life partner, who was sitting at the table eating breakfast.

"Slow down, boy," Joanne laughed as she heard the obviously excited Roger. "What about you and Mim—oh. _Oh_. Wow, Rog, that's… that's amazing… no, no, I'm happy for you, really… it's just a little unexpected…"

Maureen pulled a legal pad and pen from the counter and scrawled, _What is it?_

Joanne wrote excitedly, _Mimi's pregnant!_

Maureen grinned widely. Joanne smiled and said into the receiver, "Maureen says congrats as well."

They talked for another fifteen minutes or so, discussing Roger and Mimi's plans for the baby; the wedding, which was looming closer; and a variety of other topics before finally they hung up.

Maureen smiled at Joanne as her partner sat down next to her. "I'm so happy for them."

"I know," Joanne said. She was smiling, but Maureen caught a cloud of concern. "Jo?" she asked, quietly.

Joanne looked over at Maureen and sighed, "It just seems so unfair… the baby might have the virus…"

Maureen nodded. She'd been thinking that too. "But they're happy," she said quietly. "Isn't that all that matters?"

Joanne thought for a few moments and then finally brightened, resolving not to let it bother her. "You're right," she said with a nod. Then, almost as an afterthought, she grabbed Maureen's hand. "We should adopt."

Maureen almost choked on her cereal. "_Adopt?_ Us?"

"Sure, why not?" Joanne said. "We could at least look into it…"

Maureen thought about it. She _did_ want kids…

"Okay," she said, smiling. Joanne leaned forward and kissed her.

* * *

Tom Collins took a sip of the vodka in front of him and looked over at Benjamin Coffin III. "Heard anything from Allison lately?" he asked. 

Benny began to peel the label from his bottle of beer, out of habit. "Not recently. We don't talk much since the divorce. Her family still calls occasionally, makes conversation."

"Why _did_ you two split anyway?" Collins asked him. "If it's not too personal."

"It just wasn't working out. She wasn't too happy about me associating with you guys either," Benny said with a short laugh.

Collins smiled. "You have to admit, we're not the most conventional group of friends ever."

"Exactly. You got the Jewish filmmaker; his bisexual ex; said bisexual ex's life partner; the ex-rock star; the ex-rock star's S&M dancer girlfriend—"

"And also your ex-girlfriend."

"Another reason why we broke up, but anyway. And then there's you, the anarchist professor," Benny said, giving Collins a grin as he flagged down the bartender and ordered another beer.

"Enjoying being single?"

"I guess you could say. It's easier to do things without Allison breathing down my neck."

Collins smiled. "Did you ever tell her about Evita?"

"Christ, no. I wanted to get out of my marriage alive."

They talked for a while, reminiscing about 1989 and 1990, before Benny regarded Collins steadily and asked, "You doing okay?"

Collins sighed. "Better," he said. He'd been distraught before he took the sabbatical back in June. He'd needed some time to just clear his head. He missed Angel terribly.

"You know, Mark and Roger will want to know you're back."

"I'll call them tomorrow," Collins promised. "What happened since I left? I got a few phone calls when I was away… Roger and Mimi got engaged?"

Benny nodded. "Wedding's in about a month."

"I'll have to congratulate them, then. Mark get himself a girl yet?"

Benny smirked. "No. He's dating again, I think, but man… he was the same way in Brown. Never really put himself out there. Fortunately, though, I think he's finally over Maureen."

"Because that only took him two years," Collins laughed. "He's like my brother, but really… he needs to get himself a girl…"

* * *

It was three o'clock in the morning when the phone rang in the apartment Trai Buscemi shared with Jason Cromwell. 

Trai, personally, did not take well to late night phone calls if she was not the one initiating them. Reaching over Jason for the receiver, she picked up and mumbled, "'Lo?"

Her mom was on the other line. "Trai, sweetie?" she asked. Trai knew immediately her mom had been crying.

"Mom? What is it?" Trai asked, immediately awake. She kicked off the sheet and blanket over her and stumbled out of bed and into the closet, hurriedly grabbing clothes. She knew where this was going.

"Just… sweetie, can you come out to Bay Shore for a bit?" her mom asked, obviously broken up. "Your brother… they say he only has a few days…"

Trai paused in shrugging on a blouse and leaned against the wall for a bit, shutting her eyes momentarily. She loved her brother, dearly, and it killed her that he was about to die.

"I'll be there," she whispered, and hung up.

* * *

**A/N- Whee! Haha, sorry, I'm hyper. I know, it's my second update today, but that's only because I had the first two chapters for the last couple weeks. I only just got around to finishing Chapter Three today. (I should be doing a DBQ. Shh! wink) The updates might come a little less frequently after this, but now that it's posted on here, I'm going to try very hard to stay on top of this!**

**"Miniature Disasters" is an awesome song by KT Tunstall.**

**OnEtHoUsAnDsWeEtKiSsEs- Some brief MoJo action thrown in there! LOL. (I will write in more eventually!) Haha, actually, Buscemi is the last name of one of my best friends, a fellow Renthead who helped to suck me in. She's also a big Mark fan, so when I started writing the original draft of this story, I gave the character her last name :)**

**apbother- Thanks!! I'm trying really hard to avoid Mary Sue syndrome. The "oh, Frederick, my loins" is a personal favorite part of mine too, haha; I laughed so hard when I wrote that scene.**

**Tina101- Had enough of my OCs' backgrounds yet:) I actually use Trai as a character in some of the Rent roleplays I'm in, same with Angie; so I've had a LOT of time to work on her past. There's some funny stories about that though (especially when, with my shoddy memory, Danny became he-of-the-ever-changing-major; I do believe he went from premed to law to God knows what else). Trai's past will be explored more, hopefully, as I get into the story, and there will be some more of Danny and Angie as well.**

**For anyone who's curious-- I will soon be putting up the link to a Photobucket with pictures of all the OCs in this story (and a few from the AU I'm working on for this story). As of now, the ones I have actors for are Trai (Ellen Pompeo), Angie (Kate Walsh), and Danny (Aaron Lazar). If that will help you visualize, Google 'em.**

**Well, that's all for now. Thank you, my darlings, and please review:)**

**- Divine Sally Bowles**


	4. Strong Enough

Chapter Four  
Strong Enough

Trai pulled her hair back into a bun, scrawling off a note to Jason that she was leaving and grabbing her keys to the apartment. Jason wouldn't be happy that she'd left, but at this rate, she cared more for her brother than her boyfriend.

Even so, she couldn't help but dread the scene that would inevitably occur when she came back to the City.

_You can always leave him…_

Ever since Jason had started abusing her, she'd debated leaving him over and over, but ultimately ruled against it every time. Jason knew that her family lived in Bay Shore, and she knew that if she left him, he'd very likely come after her. She'd seen all too well the extent of Jason's rage over the last few years. There had been broken bottles, cigarette burns, a baseball bat once or twice. He tried not to hit where anyone could see.

Trai had found that barely anyone noticed, or suspected, save for Danny, Angie, and Micah, Danny's best friend. All of them had asked her about it before, and every time, Trai had denied it. She knew it wasn't a good thing, that eventually she had to tell someone, but fear of what Jason would do kept her silent.

She called Angie, who said she'd last visited Danny the previous morning, after they'd had coffee, and that she was still in Bay Shore with the Buscemi family and Micah, at the hospital. Micah would be coming to get her at the station in Babylon. Trai waited for a few hours, until seven o'clock, and then boarded the train.

All through the train ride, Trai was upset, anxious, unable to sit still. She'd always been close to her brother, and seeing him so sick, so weak, killed her. This was Danny Buscemi, star quarterback, who'd always been there to protect her. She loved Danny so much, and seeing him dying hurt her badly.

She got off at the station, going out into the rainy parking lot and finding Micah Sellers' old VW Bug idling. Trai slid into the passenger seat, and Micah looked up from his sketchbook.

"Hey," he said quietly, brushing her damp hair from her face. Micah and Trai were also close—since Micah was Danny's best friend, they'd grown up like brother and sister.

"Hey," Trai replied, just as quietly. "How's he doing?"

"All right. The doctors think he can hold out at least until the New Year."

Trai closed her eyes, leaning back against the seat. "I can't watch him die," she whispered.

Micah squeezed her shoulder. "I know, honey," he said softly. "I just… I remember what he was like in high school and now all that… all that's changed."

"It was the smack," Trai said, a tinge of anger in her voice—anger at the drug, or at her brother, it was impossible to tell. "He shouldn't have… _why_ did he…?"

"I don't know," Micah said quietly. "I wish I did."

"Me too," Trai sighed.

They ate an early breakfast at a diner in Babylon, though Trai was barely able to stomach much more than a few bites. The thought of the hospital made her nervous. They freaked her out in general, and they asked too many questions.

She could tell that Micah wanted to ask her about the bruise, if Angie or Danny hadn't told him about it already.

Micah glanced over at Trai. "At least _try_ to eat something?"

"Not that hungry," Trai said quietly, twirling her fork absently.

Micah put his hand on hers, and she looked up. "What's going on, Trai?"

"Nothing," Trai whispered, though her voice shook. "I—I'm just nervous. About Danny…"

He bit his lip. "How's Jason?"

Had his hand not still been on hers, he wouldn't have caught her momentary flinch. "He's fine. He, um, he told me he wants to propose."

_That fuck… just wants her for a fucking punching bag…_

"Sweetie…" Micah took a breath and held her gaze. "We… we have a bit before Danny wakes up… c'mon. I want to take you somewhere."

"Where are we going?" Trai asked as she stood and shrugged on her coat.

"You'll see."

* * *

Micah drove them out to the nearby Argyle Park and stopped the car. Trai had to smile, just a bit, at the sight of the pond. "We used to feed the ducks," she said softly. 

Micah smiled. "I knew you'd remember."

Micah had been a friend to the Buscemi family since he and Danny were six and Trai was five. As a result, he knew Trai well, almost as well as Angie. As teenagers, they'd kissed a few times, egged on by Danny and a few mutual friends, but it had been too weird for them, and so they stayed like brother and sister and nothing more. The Buscemis considered Micah family.

Trai sighed and leaned her elbows on the window, looking out at the frozen pond. "I just wish sometimes that we could go back," she said quietly. "I mean… I wonder… I wonder, if I had that choice, would I take it? Would Danny?… Because I wonder if he'd—if he'd c-change that he… that he got addicted…"

Her voice was breaking, and tears were streaming down her face. Micah reached out and took her hand. She gave him a weak smile, but the pain was clear in her expression.

"I don't want to lose him," she whispered.

"None of us do, honey… none of us do."

* * *

_"It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenburgs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York." _Trai paused and reread the line to herself before saying, dryly, "Funny. I get that feeling all the time." 

Danny laughed, though he was wheezing a little, and grinned at his little sister. Still, by the way she smiled, the way she clutched her tattered copy of The Bell Jar like a lifeline, he knew she was upset.

Trai swallowed hard. The antisepticky smell of the hospital made her feel nauseous, as did her older brother's present condition.

It was later that day. Micah had driven her to the hospital. Danny had still been asleep, but he'd woken to Trai stroking his hair, trying to fight back tears.

He wanted to tell her so much. He was so tempted to tell her about him and Angie, but decided against it.

"Sweetie, you don't have to be here," he whispered. "I know hospitals freak you out."

"They do, but I want to be here. I love you, Dan," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.

Danny couldn't stand seeing his sister cry. "Hey, hey," he said softly, squeezing her shoulder. "None of that. Shh…" He rubbed her shoulder and tried gently, "You remember when I beat up Kyle Grange?"

Trai drew in a shaky breath and laughed weakly, nodding. "I was a sophomore," she managed.

Danny nodded. "Yep. I was playing on the football team." He'd been a junior in high school himself. "He'd asked you to the junior prom."

"Can't see why," Trai laughed, and it wasn't as forced. "I was the class geek, and a year younger."

"Hey. You were cute, and I'm not just saying that because you're family. I remember… Mom and Dad wanted me home for dinner, so I decided to cut through the back parking lot… things went to hell when I found Kyle in one of the cars with another girl's bra in his hands—though if it had been yours, the scene wouldn't have been pretty, either," he ribbed her lightly.

"You dragged him home with a bloody nose. Made him apologize."

"Damn right I did."

"I think the reason he broke up with me was that he was scared of you," Trai said with a watery smile.

"Well, I am a pretty scary guy."

There was silence between them before Trai whispered, "Dan, can I ask you something?"

Danny nodded. "Sure."

Trai took a slow breath and said quietly, "Why'd you do it? The smack?"

Danny looked away. "Trai… you really… you don't want to hear this…"

"Yes. Yes, I do. I want to hear it because I want to know…" Trai had to break off for a second before she finished, "I want to know why my big brother… my big brother, who I always loved… a-and looked up to… I want to know why it is that you're lying here in front of me, dying," she whispered.

Danny looked away, taking Trai's hands in his, very gently. "It was hard," he said quietly. "Harvard was really, really hard. You know me—I was never the greatest at school, but I loved football, and I was good at it, and Mom and Dad always wanted me to be a lawyer."

"Why didn't you say no?" Trai whispered. "Dan, if you didn't want to be a lawyer… you could've turned down the scholarship…"

"I didn't want to," Danny said quietly. "Being a lawyer… Trai, I never really had any idea what I wanted to do, and law school sounded appealing, like it was something I'd be good at. And when they offered me the chance to play football, I took it, because it was what I loved to do.

"You went to Dartmouth. You know the kinds of pressures they put on you—all the tests, the papers, everything. I was expected to be good, Trai. They had a _lot_ of expectations for me, and I couldn't meet all of them. Balancing a sport and a major like I was really started to get to me.

"My friend Jimmy… he was on the team with me. Had the same problems I had, or thought I had. And he had a friend who was a dealer. The guy hooked him up, and he told me… he told me what it was like. That with the heroin, he could keep up with everything. I wasn't doing so great at that point—it was either the team or my grades, and to get where I was going I needed both." He swallowed hard and looked into his little sister's eyes. "So I asked Jimmy to give me the drug," he finished quietly.

"Was he the one that infected you?" Trai whispered.

Danny nodded. "We shared a needle… only once… but it was enough…"

"I thought you were smarter than that," Trai said shakily, her voice close to breaking.

"So did I," Danny whispered. "So did I."

* * *

It was a hard night. 

Trai hadn't eaten anything at dinner, either, and her lunch had been only a few bites of something the hospital called a sandwich, but was in reality anything but.

Angie knew that Trai was upset, and so went up to Trai's old room in the Buscemi home in Bay Shore, where Trai was staying for however long Danny would hold out.

"Trai?" Angie called softly through the door. "Trai, can I come in?"

The clicking of the keys of Trai's typewriter ceased, and Trai's voice called, "Sure…"

Angie slowly eased open the door. Trai was sitting on her old bed with her typewriter and notebook. It was a familiar scene for Angie; she'd found Trai like this many nights in college.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong, Trai?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing," Trai whispered, though she pushed away the typewriter and shut her notebook, which was a good sign.

_Is she going to talk?_ Angie wondered. "Trai, c'mon… eight years… eight years and I've told you, you can talk to me, anytime and anywhere you need to," she whispered, taking Trai's hands. "Please… Trai, if something's going on, tell me… please tell me…"

Trai looked away and finally whispered, "Whatever I tell you, whatever I say… don't judge me?"

"Never," Angie whispered. "Tell me."

Trai took a slow breath and shut her eyes. "He hits me," she whispered, "and he rapes me…"

* * *

When Angie arrived in his hospital room the next morning, Danny already knew something was wrong. 

"Ang?" he asked softly. He could detect concern in her eyes, and, he knew, not all of it was for him. "Did she…?"

"She told me everything," Angie whispered, sitting down next to him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"And?" Danny whispered.

"We were right," Angie said quietly.

Danny breathed out a slow sigh and leaned back against the pillows. "Shit," he sighed. Though he'd suspected about his sister's abuse for years, having it confirmed hurt.

After a hesitation he said quietly, "How badly has he… how badly has the bastard hurt her?"

Angie lay down next to him, and he pulled her close. "Badly… she… she showed me the scars… he hits her, rapes her… but there's more than that, so much more…"

Danny closed his eyes, biting his lip hard. He wished, more than anything, that he could hurt the bastard that had done this to his baby sister. He'd known, he'd _known_ Jason was no good for her, but the first night he'd met him had been when he'd been diagnosed… he had been too high to even realize… and then he got the results, and everything went to hell…

As much as Trai's confession hurt him, he knew Angie was upset too, and took her into his arms. "Shh… shh…" he soothed, holding her as she sobbed.

"What did _any_ of us do?" Angie sobbed. "She's hurt… you're dying… I can't take this, Dan, I can't!"

Danny held her tighter and whispered, "I love you… I'm sorry, Angela, you _know_ how sorry I am…"

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Angie sobbed. "Y-you were supposed t-to get better a-and live with me… and we were supposed to get married…"

Danny could feel his throat starting to close as he thought of all the promises he'd made a year before. "I know, baby," Danny whispered, stroking her hair. "I know what I said."

When Angie finally stopped crying, Danny gently tilted her face to his and kissed her. It grew steadily in passion until Angie had her hand on Danny's chest and Danny had undone her blouse and was kissing her breasts.

"Can we do this here?" Angie murmured, breathless.

"Should we?" Danny asked, nervously. Angie bit her lip before slowly pulling protection from her purse. They debated silently for a moment, as they did every time, before Danny said softly, "Angie… I don't want… I don't want to infect you or get you pregnant… not—not when I'm like this… there's a good chance of either…"

Angie put her finger to his lips, willing him silent, tears gathering in her eyes. "I want this," she whispered.

Danny swallowed and touched her cheek gently. "Okay," he whispered.

* * *

"You're absolutely sure?" Trai whispered two days later. 

Danny nodded, holding her close. "Yeah," he whispered.

Trai looked away, her breathing shaky, ragged, as she tried to hold back her sobs. She knew, as did Danny, that he was about to die.

"You don't hate me?" she finally managed, her voice trembling badly.

"Why would I hate you?" Danny asked her, making her look at him.

"Because I didn't tell you… about Jason…"

"I could never hate you for being scared," Danny told her, very softly. "I know how it feels, Trai… maybe not exactly, but damn close… the day I got the results of my test, I was terrified," he told her honestly.

Trai buried her face in his chest. "I—I can't tell Mom and Dad just yet… b-but I think I might break up with him…"

"That's good," Danny encouraged, breaking off for a second to cough. When he could speak again, he wheezed, "Bastard doesn't deserve you anyway."

Trai smiled, but she was crying. "I found someone I like," she whispered.

"Really?" Danny had to smile too, though his chest felt tight. "What's his name?"

"Mark. Mark Cohen."

"Nice Jewish guy," Danny chuckled. "That'll make Dad happy."

"Yeah," Trai whispered. "Yeah…"

"It makes me happy, too," Danny said very gently, holding her gaze. "I… I'm glad that… that I could see you happy… just this once…"

Trai swallowed hard and kissed her brother's forehead. "You should sleep," she said shakily. "I'll… I'll stay."

"If you don't want to…" Danny began.

"I want to," Trai whispered, taking her brother's hand and holding it tightly.

Danny drifted off into sleep.

At 12:02 in the morning, Daniel Anthony Buscemi was pronounced dead.

To his sister, it seemed horribly wrong that the New Year started with death.

* * *

Trai returned to Jason five days after she'd left, on January 1st, just hours after her brother had died. She'd spent the night with Angie and her parents, all of them crying, praying for Danny. 

While she knew that Jason wouldn't be happy with her, she'd decided to honor what she'd said to her brother, and break up with him.

Still, as she opened the door, she was terrified.

"J—Jason?" she called, her voice strained. "I… I'm home…" She was still shaken by Danny's death, and she knew she was a mess.

Jason emerged from the kitchen, his voice flat as he said, "Nice of you to come home. You look like shit."

"Danny's _dead_, Jason!" Trai told him, her voice shaky and broken. "And I'm not taking anymore shit from you. I'm getting my stuff and I'm leaving."

Jason slapped her, the sound echoing harshly in the dark stillness of the living room. She took a breath, trying not to cry, but failing. It was the first time since Danny's diagnosis that he'd even seen her shed a tear.

"Fuck you," she said angrily, standing up to him like she'd tried to so many times before. "_Fuck you!_ How much of a fucking sick _bastard_ do you have to be after my brother just _died_ with me there?!"

Jason slammed her hard against the wall, and she twisted, trying to pull away, but Jason shoved his arm against her throat, making breathing difficult, keeping her pinned.

"Get off of me," she yelled against the burning pain in her throat. "Get _off_ of me!"

Jason punched her in the jaw, and she fell silent, though her eyes were burning with anger. "Do you know how weak you are?" Jason hissed into her ear. "Do you? Do you even know how fucking _pathetic_ you are right now?"

He pushed her to the floor. "Go. Take your shit and leave."

Before she could pull herself to her feet, he delivered a sharp kick to her side, and said slowly, deliberately, "Wherever you run to, I will find you."

He left Trai on the floor of their apartment, bleeding from her mouth and rubbing her soon-to-be-bruised side, which was causing her a lot of pain.

_I have to get out of here_.

Trai stumbled up the stairs, dazed from pain, grabbing the few of her things that she needed still and throwing them into the bag that held her typewriter and papers that she'd brought with her to Bay Shore.

Then she left, her eyes burning with tears of grief and pain, and made her way haltingly to Avenue B, where she knew Mark lived.

She passed out in the alley outside his building.

* * *

**A/N- Hello, darlings! It's Divine Sally Bowles and dear GOD, I am sorry I left you all hanging! As it turns out, I lost my notebook and therefore many of my drafts for Chapter Four. Coincidentally enough, I found it this morning under a pile of papers and my copy of The Bell Jar :) **

**"Strong Enough" is a song by Sheryl Crow.**

**DramaQueenRENThead/MeredithGrey- Changed your pen name, I see. Sorry the update didn't come as soon as you would've liked. I hope to get Chapter Five up and running soon. **

**Diva Actress- Thanks!!**

**xxReDhEaDxx- Aww, Lily, I love you! Unfortunately, Sunny Road has hit a sunny creative block, but I'm slowly getting back to that too.**

**BroadwayBabe32- The death and sadness has arrived; more of it will come later, trust me.**

**wiccashadowcat- Thank you for the enthusiasm!!**

**I see that a lot of people have put me on their alerts/favorite lists but have not reviewed; while I definitely appreciate it, please give me some critique or feedback? It would be much obliged.**

**Sorry about the delay, my lovelies. Happy (late) Passover and Easter!**

**-Divine Sally Bowles**


	5. Wreck of the Day

Chapter Five  
Wreck of the Day

Roger Davis going out grocery shopping was one of two things—a sign of love and devotion to his fiancée, or a sign of the Apocalypse.

Still, ignoring his friend's exclamations of shock and _you didn't do this when _we_ were roommates_, Roger dragged Mark with him in an effort to get his friend out of the loft and away from his editing equipment. He knew that Mark hadn't seen Trai in a few days, since he knew the chick swung by for a bit every few days for him to check her writing. Wanting to keep his friend's mind off it, he gave him half of Mimi's shopping list and pulled him in the direction of the nearest supermarket.

Though he was unwilling to admit it, Mark had fun, and agreed to help Roger unpack the groceries and check up on how Mimi was doing.

Still, when Roger and him took a shortcut through the alley to get to their building, Roger stopped dead, kneeling immediately by the curled-up, bruised form lying inert on the pavement.

"Mark, get over here!" he hollered.

The filmmaker came running, obviously disturbed when he found his friend kneeling in the alley, holding a beaten, unconscious young woman in his arms. But he was even more disturbed when he realized he recognized her.

"Shit!" he burst out, ripping off his coat despite the cold air and wrapping her in it. "Shit!"

"What is it?" Roger demanded, but then caught the look in Mark's eyes. "You know her?" he asked.

Mark nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. It's Trai…"

"Shit is right," Roger mumbled under his breath. "Do you have any idea how she could've gotten this way?"

"She had a bruise when I last saw her… didn't look great… I don't know."

"Can you help me lift her?" Roger asked. "We can get her up to my loft…"

Mark nodded, gathering up the grocery bags and then helping Roger carry Trai, very carefully, up the stairs.

Mimi was obviously shocked when the two of them brought in more than just groceries.

"_Mi dios_," she breathed, taking in the battered girl they carried between them. "What the hell…?"

"This is Trai," Mark explained, hurriedly. "We found her in the alley…"

Mimi nodded quickly. She spread a blanket out on the table of the loft, the same way they'd done the night they found her in Central Park. Mark very carefully laid her down, his ears pricking up as he heard her groan softly.

"Trai? Trai, it's Mark."

Trai very slowly opened her eyes, wincing in pain. "Mmm…" she moaned. "Mark?"

"Yeah." Mark sat down on the edge of the table, carefully taking her hand. "How did this happen to you? We found you in the alley…"

"Shit," Trai muttered. "I… Jason…"

She was having trouble finding words for it. Mark looked up at Roger and Mimi. "Could you leave us for a little bit?"

Though obviously concerned, Roger and Mimi nodded, and disappeared into one of the other rooms.

Trai slowly sat up, holding her side. Mark pushed her hair back from her sweaty face and noticed she was shivering. He got her another blanket and wrapped it around her. She still had his worn jacket around her shoulders.

"Thanks," she managed, hoarsely. She took a few minutes to breathe and then confessed finally, "Jason, my boyfriend… he's abusive. A-and my… m-my brother j-just died a few hours ago."

Mark's heart sank as he saw how upset she was. "Trai…" He didn't know what to tell her. "I'm so, so sorry. How did it…?"

"He has—_had_—HIV… I-it was quick… in his sleep… I was there… holding his hand…"

The pain she was feeling was all too familiar to Mark. He felt his chest tighten as he thought of what had happened to Angel. He squeezed her hand, very gently, and asked softly, "Can you walk? I can help you up to my place if you want to clean up… maybe call the police?"

Trai flinched. "N—no… if I call the police—"

Mark noticed the fear in her eyes and soothed, "He won't be able to touch you. I'm here now. My friends will help you, too."

Trai drew in a slow breath and contemplated. "Can you help me up?" she said finally.

Mark gently took her by the arm and helped her stand. "Easy…" he said as she stumbled a little bit. "I got you. Just take it slow…"

They slowly made their way up to the loft, where Trai placed a phone call to the police, who came by to ask questions and get what she could offer as evidence. They promised to obtain a warrant and call her when they had him. When they were gone, Trai was visibly relieved.

Mark looked her over. The shock had passed, but she was still cold. She had bruises on her face and throat, and there was some blood on her cheek. "Do you need help cleaning up?" he asked.

"I can do it myself. Trust me—it's not the first time," Trai said quietly. Her voice cracked a little from emotion.

Seeing this girl—this beautiful girl, who'd done nothing at all to anyone—in so much pain made Mark want to hurt the bastard who'd done this to her. "Use anything you need," he told her. "If you need anything else, yell."

Trai carefully got up. "Mark—thanks; I really mean it—"

Mark put his hand on her shoulder. "It's no problem."

* * *

Hours later, when it was dark out, Trai climbed out to the fire escape. She was staying with Mark for the night, but she couldn't sleep after the events of the day. She kept thinking of Danny, and Jason.

"Hey," she heard a quiet voice from above her. She looked up and found someone vaguely familiar looking sitting above her. She then recognized him as the guy from the alley—Roger, Mark had told her his name was.

"Hi," she said softly. This guy was Mark's best friend. She didn't want to say anything that would make him dislike her.

"Why don't you come on up?" Roger asked.

Trai slowly climbed up to his level and sat down beside him. "Trai Buscemi," she said quietly. "Since we've never been formally introduced."

"Roger Davis." He shook her outstretched hand and offered her a smile. She looked over at him and said quietly, "Thanks. For what you did before…"

"No problem," he said gently. Then, "If you don't mind telling… who did that to you?"

"M—my ex, Jason… he's abusive," Trai admitted. "He kicked me out. My brother—my brother just died earlier this morning, and he got pissed at me for leaving to go home a few days ago…"

Roger winced in sympathy. "I'm sorry," he told her. "My mom, she was abused, too. Her boyfriends weren't the greatest."

Trai asked, tentatively, "Mark says you have HIV?"

Roger nodded. "My fiancée and I, and some of our friends."

Trai sighed and traced her fingers in small circles on the railing. "My brother was a junkie. He… he died because of his HIV."

Roger drew in his breath. He then pushed up one of his sleeves, showing her the scars from his track marks. "It's how I got it," he admitted. "I played in a band. My girlfriend, April, got me into smack. Infected me… and then killed herself."

Trai hugged her knees to her chest. "Does it get any easier?" she asked, quietly. "To lose someone like that?"

Roger put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Over time, it does," he said gently. "At first, it's not easy. But it gets better. I promise."

Trai nodded. "Thanks."

"It's nothing, trust me." Roger paused for a bit before he asked, "Are you and Mark going to…?"

"At this point… I don't know. I'm staying with him for the night; tomorrow I need to go back home for the funeral… we could… be in a relationship, I guess. But—everything Jason did to me… getting over it is going to be hard."

"He'll be patient. I promise. Mark's a great guy."

"So I've seen." Trai smiled weakly. "I'd better go try and sleep… again, Roger, thanks…"

"You're welcome." Roger squeezed her shoulder again. "If you ever need anything, or if Mark drives you crazy, I'm right downstairs."

She smiled just a bit more. "I appreciate it," she said, and climbed back up to Mark's loft.

* * *

Roger went back inside to his loft, and found Mimi sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, still awake.

"It's late, baby. Everything okay?" Roger asked gently as he sat down next to her, hugging her close.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Mimi told him. "You sure _you're_ okay? You don't normally go out to the fire escape."

"Sometimes I do when I need to think. Trai and I just talked for a bit."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah. I think Mark's got everything covered."

"What's she like?" Mimi wanted to know.

"She seems sweet. Her boyfriend was abusive, so she's careful. But I think she'll be good for Mark."

"I think anyone who won't dump him for a woman is good for Mark," Mimi laughed. Roger smiled and nuzzled her cheek.

They lay there for a little bit, both of them lost in thought, before Roger said gently, "You're still debating about the baby, aren't you."

Mimi sighed. She knew he'd be able to tell. "Baby… I don't… as much as we said we wanted to keep it… I really don't want to be responsible for giving this disease to a kid," she said quietly.

"But they can do a lot to try and prevent that," Roger told her. "I've been doing some reading—yes, shocking, I know," he said, trying to prod a smile out of her. She did, just a little. "If you keep taking your AZT, if we have a C-section when the time comes—it'll lower the chances."

Mimi rested her head on his shoulder. "I—I guess."

"Any names?" Roger asked softly.

"I—I thought about Lauren, maybe? For a girl?" Mimi admitted.

Roger smiled. _That's a girl_. "That sounds great. Lauren Davis…"

"I'm still thinking of boys' names. But at least we have a start."

Roger rested his hands on her belly. "That's all that matters."

* * *

The next morning, Mark found Trai in Roger's old bedroom, where she'd slept for the night. She was getting dressed for the funeral, holding her hair back and struggling to clasp a necklace with one hand.

Mark stepped behind her and did it for her. She turned her head and gave him a small smile. "Thanks."

"Are you sure you can do this?" Mark asked her. He knew how hard this had to be for her.

Trai sighed and sat down on the bed, her hands unconsciously smoothing down her black skirt. "My mom asked if I could take care of the eulogy. I guess it's—it's to be expected… I mean, he was my brother, and I'm the writer… but it… it makes it feel so much more real, y'know? I've been trying to delude myself… telling myself that if I just keep denying it, it'll go away. But it's not going to go away," she whispered. "He's gone, and I can't change that… I didn't do a damned thing about it…"

She started to cry quietly. Mark took a seat beside her and said softly, "Listen. You _did _help Danny. You were there when he died. You were supporting him, loving him. That's a damned sight better than what any hospital could give him. I'm sorry about what happened to him—believe me, I know how you feel. But I'm sure he's happy, wherever he is."

"I miss him, Mark," she whispered. "It's just not fair…"

"I know," Mark said softly, putting his arm around her. "I know."

Trai rubbed her hands along her arms, then wiped her eyes. "I really appreciate you letting me stay here, Mark. It was nice of you."

"Do you have anywhere to go?" Mark asked gently.

"I can stay at home, if I have to. I'm… I'm not that keen on it… not after Danny."

Mark thought about it. He really didn't want to seem forward, but he wanted to help her… was it because she was in need? Was it because…?

… _Is it possible that I love her?_

"You can live with me," he blurted, wincing inwardly as he realized how it sounded.

Trai looked over at him. "Are—Mark, are you sure?"

Mark nodded, slowly. "If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to… b-but—I don't… I don't know if you feel the same way, but… I like you, Trai. I really do. And I don't know if it can turn into anything more, but I'd… I'd be willing to explore, if you are. If you're ready for that."

Trai very slowly rested her hand on his. _"He'll be patient. I promise. Mark's a great guy,"_ Roger had said.

_Let's hope he's right._

"I'd really like to," Trai said quietly. "I really would."

* * *

The sky was clear, but the day was cold, and the funeral was small, consisting mostly of the Buscemi family and some of Danny's friends. Since Scott, Trai's father, was Jewish, the funeral was the next day.

Arriving in the cemetery, hugging her coat close around her, Trai noted, a little surprised, that Coach Albright, Danny's high school coach and her old gym teacher, had come.

Surprisingly, when Albright spotted her, he recognized her. "Tracy Buscemi?"

Trai winced a little at the use of her real name—she hadn't gone by Tracy since, well, high school. But she smiled, a little weakly. "Hi, Coach."

Albright chuckled. "You're—what? Twenty-six now? You can call me Rich."

"It's nice of you to come, Rich. Really. I remember how much Danny used to tell me about you—he really looked up to you, sir."

Rich squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry that all of this happened in the first place. Danny was a great kid—he didn't deserve any of this."

"I'll miss him," Trai sighed.

"We all will, kid," Rich said, patting her shoulder. "We all will. Look, Tracy—if you ever need anything, just call. Tell your parents, too."

Trai thanked Rich and then went to find Angie, who was standing by the coffin with Micah and his fiancée, Erica. Angie hugged Trai close, both of them needing the support. Still, when Angie pulled away, she noticed the bruises that were clearly visible on Trai's throat, despite her trying to hide them with her shirt collar.

"Trai, what happened?" Angie whispered, pulling her aside. "What the hell did Jason—?"

"We're broken up, Angie. It's over," Trai whispered, squeezing Angie's hand. "Please don't worry about me… I'm staying with that guy Mark…"

"Still, Trai… goddammit, Trai, Jason _hurt_ you…"

"I know," Trai said quietly. "Let it drop, Angie… just for now… please let it drop."

Angie finally nodded.

Eventually, when all of the mourners had gathered, Roseanna Buscemi said softly, "Trai, honey? You have the eulogy?"

Trai swallowed hard, fighting back tears. Angie gave her friend's hand a squeeze. Trai pulled the papers from her purse and stepped up by her brother's coffin.

"Danny was a great guy. I'm not saying that just because he was my big brother—it's true. He was always the kid on our block who was helping the neighbors. He was the peer mediator. And my mom and dad can tell you that he _always_ tried to protect me.

"When I was seven and he was eight, I remember that there were a bunch of ten-year-olds making fun of me. I came home crying, and I just remember that that was the last straw for Danny. He came home with a broken arm and a bloody nose, but he did it to protect me.

"It's really… it's _really_ a shame that Danny only had 27 years," she continued, her voice trembling. "I know that that's more than what most people would consider dying too young. But he was just—he was _so_ brave. All of you know that Danny had HIV. I remember asking him about it when I was 24, and he told me that he wasn't afraid. He wasn't scared at all."

Trai took a breath. "A couple weeks ago I tried to thank him for what he did for me when I was seven, and all the times in between then that he helped me. He told me not to worry about it—that he was always just trying to look out for me." At this point, she was crying. "I read _To Kill a Mockingbird _when I was 15, and I remember laughing because it reminded me so much of me and Danny. When we were kids, and sometimes in recent years, I used to call him Jem, and he'd call me Scout." She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face, and said, almost inaudibly, "I'll miss you, Jem."

When she stepped away from the coffin, Angie put her arm around Trai's shoulder and soothed her gently, though she was crying too. She led her away from the coffin and found Mrs. Buscemi. Quietly she asked, "Would you mind if I took her back to the house?"

Mrs. Buscemi shook her head, dabbing at her eyes. "Go ahead, girls. Trai… that was beautiful," she whispered, pulling her daughter into a long hug. Scott Buscemi did the same, then turned to his wife and held her wordlessly.

Angie led Trai out of the cemetery and to her car. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Angie said quietly, "When d'you think it'll stop hurting?"

Trai wiped her eyes and sighed. "Sometimes, I don't think it ever will."

* * *

**A/N- To apologize for my super slow update with Chapter Four, I give you Chapter Five! (It's also partially because I'm on break at the moment and I am bored out of my mind.) To anyone wondering, MoJo, Collins, and Benny will definitely be heard from again next chapter. Because what's a Rent fic without at least one instance of the whole gang gathering? (And there will be some bombshells to drop here…)**

"**Wreck of the Day" is a song by Anna Nalick.**

**I Always Get It For Free x3- I'm sorry to have depressed you, lol. But thanks!**

**DivaActress- Thanks for that! Soon enough for your liking? –wink-**

**Tina101- Well, I can't leave her depressed for long… things WILL change. –mischievous grin-**

**notEASYbeingGREEN- Ooh, yay. I love hearing that from people! Thanks!**

**BroadwayBabe32- Mark with only his scarf… -drools- Hehe… part of that line came from one of my roleplays; I nicknamed Mark "Jew Boy". (And don't worry- I'm half-Jewish myself!)**

**Forloveormoney- Thanks! Yep, I'd been planning on a Roger/Mimi scene for this chapter. There will be more of them coming soon!**

**Thanks for all of your support, girls. Again, happy Easter!**

**- Divine Sally Bowles**


	6. Let's Get Together

Chapter Six  
Let's Get Together

"What are we going to _say_ to people?" Trai asked one evening as she sat on the couch with her typewriter and notebook, typing up a draft.

Mark paused in filming her. Her creative process fascinated him. "People?" he asked. They'd been living together for a few days by now, and the only ones who knew so far were Roger and Mimi. Maureen and Joanne had gone to see Joanne's family for the holidays, and Mark hadn't heard from Benny or Collins in ages.

"Your friends? There _are_ others besides Roger and Mimi, correct?"

Mark laughed. "Of course. But only four of them. And I'm sure they won't mind. Trust me, Roger and Mimi and Maureen and Joanne didn't exactly wait to get into things."

"If you say so." Trai bit the cap of her pen. Mark trained his camera on her and narrated, "Close on Trai Buscemi, my… Trai, can I call you my girlfriend?"

Trai blushed. "Yeah. I'd say you can."

"Close on Trai Buscemi, my girlfriend, currently hard at work on her newest novel."

"Her newest novel that has now hit a creative block."

"Mind telling the folks at home what your novel's called?"

Trai rolled her eyes. "You, sir, are cruel. If you _must_ know, it's called _Martini Love_."

Mark snickered. "You're a writer. You must be familiar with alcoholism."

"Oh, you shut up. That's a stereotype. And it's a double entendre, in a way. You're a filmmaker; ever heard of a martini shot?"

"Sure have."

"Then figure it out, cameraman," she teased. She appraised him for a moment and said, "Tomas, the character I used you for, isn't nearly as attractive as you."

"Keep it that way. None shall rival me for your attention." He gave her a smile as he turned off the camera.

After a minute, Trai snapped her fingers. "I got it. Finally. It was tormenting me."

"Hmm?"

"Finally figured out what this whole thing reminds me of. _Cabaret_."

"Never seen it."

"Really? Huh. Well, musical's better, in my opinion. Anyway. Well, in the musical there's this novelist, Cliff, and a nightclub singer, Sally. Sally gets kicked out by her boyfriend, and she goes to Cliff when they barely know each other and talks him into taking her in. And they fall in love." She smiled and sang, a little timidly, _"I met this perfectly marvelous girl in this perfectly wonderful place as I lifted a glass to the start of a marvelous year…_"

Mark couldn't help but smile. She was happy, and her voice actually wasn't so bad. "It really is like us," he said, amused.

"The song ends with a kiss," Trai said, quirking a smile.

Mark grinned. He leaned in, placing a hand on her thigh, and kissed her gently. She reciprocated, though a little hesitantly at first. He didn't push her, knowing that she was still getting used to intimacy that wasn't forced. Still, once she realized how good it felt, she deepened the kiss.

Moments later, Mark pulled away, breathless. He touched his forehead to hers, tracing her jawline with his forefinger. "You're so beautiful," he murmured.

Trai's face lit up with a smile. "You are too."

* * *

As it turned out, Roger and Mimi called everyone to their place the next day for a bit of a gathering. Mark, Maureen, and Joanne already knew the news, but Collins and Benny didn't, and since all of them had barely seen each other over the last few months, the gathering was voted a good idea.

"Are you sure you want me there?" Trai asked as Mark was shaving. "I mean, they're your family, basically. It just doesn't feel right."

"I'd like them to meet you. If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to go," Mark assured her.

Trai leaned against the doorjamb and contemplated. She'd been feeling better over the last few days after the funeral. Mark was a welcome distraction, and she talked with Angie every night, in addition to meeting her for coffee every Friday.

_Might as well go. Show them Mark's not completely celibate._

"I'll go," she said, with a small smile.

Mark brightened considerably. "Great. You don't have to dress up or anything—it's right downstairs, and trust me, we're anything but formal."

Trai got dressed within twenty minutes, pulling on a sweater and jeans and putting her hair up in a ponytail. She really hoped that his friends would like her. She'd seen too many relationships go wrong due to influential friends.

At 7:00 in the evening, Trai and Mark went downstairs to Roger and Mimi's. Being that they were only a floor away, they were the first ones there.

"Mark Cohen, actually on time for once," Roger remarked as Mark came through the door. "Hey, man." They embraced for a second.

While Mark greeted Mimi, Roger touched Trai's shoulder. "How you holding up?"

"I'm doing a lot better," Trai told him with a small smile.

"That's good to hear. And you haven't walked out on Mark, which is a miracle in itself."

"I'm still in the room, Roger," was Mark's reply to this.

Roger held up his hands. "I'm just saying, I like this girl." He gave Trai a wink. Trai grinned in response.

While Roger returned to the kitchen—cooking, another sign that, surely, Hell had frozen over—Mark took Trai's hand and led her to the couch where Mimi was sitting.

"Trai, I'd like you to formally meet Mimi Marquez."

"Nice to meet you," Trai said courteously, offering Mimi her hand. Mimi shook it and motioned for Trai to sit down. "Let the boys talk," she laughed. "All they ever do, I'm telling you. You two are worse than old girlfriends," she directed at Mark.

"Hey, old habits are hard to break." Mark smiled at the girls and then went into the kitchen to talk to Roger.

"She and Mimi are hitting it off already," Roger remarked, smiling as he watched his fiancée.

"Yeah. She was nervous about coming here, but I think she's okay with it. You think Maureen will be shocked?" Mark asked with a short laugh.

"Probably. Man, she had you whipped."

"Don't remind me. Or mention that to Trai. Have you talked to her?"

"Yeah, a few nights ago. She seems really nice. I'm happy for you, man."

"Thanks." Mark smiled and leaned against the counter. "How's Mimi doing?"

"She's doing better. Still debating whether or not to keep the baby," Roger told him.

"I thought…?"

"So did I, but she's still not sure… she really doesn't want to pass it on to a kid… I keep telling her to look at the odds of _not_ giving it to the baby."

"Just keep telling her that. I'm sure she'll listen."

"I hope so," Roger sighed.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Trai looked over at Mimi. "Mark told me you're pregnant?"

Mimi nodded, a small smile on her face. "Yeah."

"Congratulations. Are you excited?"

"Kind of scared, to tell you the truth. I take it he told you about Roger and I, too."

Trai nodded. "I think it's a good thing you're keeping the baby. My brother, he had AIDS, and he never got to have kids. I know he really wanted a family."

"I have some doubts. About being a mom, and everything. But I think that with Roger's help, it'll work out."

"If Mark and I are still together at that point, I'll help," Trai offered.

Mimi smiled. "I'm sure you guys will be. And I'd really appreciate it."

"Then I'd be glad to help," Trai said, smiling too.

At that moment, Maureen and Joanne entered, and Mimi rose to greet them as Mark and Roger came out of the kitchen. Trai stayed where she was, content to watch the gathering.

When all the necessary embracing and greetings were done with, Maureen and Joanne finally noticed the new girl on the couch. "And who's this?" Joanne asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mark smiled, blushing a little, and resisted the urge to look away. "This is Trai, my girlfriend."

Trai got up and offered her hand. "Hi," she said, a little shyly.

Joanne smiled and shook her hand warmly. Maureen gave Mark a grin and kissed him on the cheek, then shook Trai's hand as well.

"So… what do you do for a living?" Maureen asked curiously as she and Joanne took their seats. Mark sat down next to Trai, wrapping his hand around hers.

"I write," Trai said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Romances."

Thankfully, Maureen and Joanne didn't laugh. They continued to ask her questions, still curious, until Collins arrived, closely followed by Benny.

Their reception was even better than Maureen and Joanne's, being that none of them had seen their two friends in months. After the necessary ribbing of Benny due to his being single and quiet questions about Collins' well being, Mark introduced them to Trai. Benny was a gentleman, as always, while Collins just burst out laughing and clapped Mark in a brotherly way on the back. Trai smiled and kissed Mark on the cheek.

"So how long have you two been dating?" was Benny's question as everyone sat down again.

"A little less than a week," Mark answered. Trai gave him a slightly worried glance, wondering if the information would shock them or make them dislike her, but she needn't have worried. The conversation continued until Roger and Mimi decided to break the news to Benny and Collins.

"Okay. Well, since you two have been unreachable for the past few months," Roger started, "Mimi and I have news of our own."

"Oh?" Collins asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mimi smiled. "I'm pregnant."

The news was met with a lot of cheers and congratulations, even from those who already knew the news. Discussion turned to the baby and Roger and Mimi's impending parenthood before a toast was finally proposed by Mark, using water, of course, since Mimi couldn't drink.

"To Roger, Mimi, and the new bohemian baby," he said with a wink. Everyone clinked glasses and drank.

Joanne turned to Mimi, still smiling. "You know, Maureen and I have been thinking of adopting."

"Really?" Mimi asked with a grin. "That's great, guys, that's… that's amazing. Man, can you imagine if all our kids grew up together?"

Mark overheard this and gave a mock grimace. "Could you imagine the insanity?"

Everyone laughed. Trai smiled and turned to Mark. "You think you'd ever want kids?" she mused.

"Maybe," Mark nodded. "Eventually. Yeah. I think I would."

* * *

The evening turned to night, and then eventually midnight, before everyone decided to leave—with the promise, of course, to do this more in the future. Mark and Trai headed upstairs as the others started to head out the door.

"Hey, Mark!" Benny called. Mark looked back for a second.

Benny motioned to Trai. "Are you two…?"

"Living together?" Mark questioned. Benny nodded. "Yeah. We are," Mark confirmed.

"Oh. I… uh…"

Trai glanced at Mark. The only thing she could think was _shit_. Everything had been going so well.

"That's great," Benny said finally. "That's a good thing."

Collins, Benny, Maureen, and Joanne finally descended the stairs together. "Anyone else find that in the least bit strange?" Benny asked.

"Well, they really did seem good together," Joanne remarked. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"None of us really ever waited when it came to romance," Collins pointed out.

Benny nodded—this was true. "You think they'll last?"

"They should," Maureen said. "Mark deserves it. I hope they do."

* * *

**A/N- Hey guys! I'm trying to make my updates more frequent. This chapter's shorter than most, but I'm working out how exactly I want to run this story. (I have drafts for April, June, and October in this story… none of which can help me right now, LOL.)**

"**Let's Get Together" is the name of a song, but I pulled it more from a lyric by Bob Marley. (Don't listen to him, but it's one of those songs you hear all the time.)**

**I Always Get It For Free x3- Planning on Mark being better than Jason, yes. XD They'll have some obstacles, but I can't tell you about those yet, haha.**

**notEASYbeingGREEN- I think it's safe to say that I pretty much love you. I really love to hear all those things you said in your review—I work for humor; I am in fact writing a series of books (I write dark fantasy in my spare time); and I'm really glad that you like Trai. Thanks so much!!**

**Tina101- Yeah, somehow I got it right all of the other times, but messed up when it came to the fire escape. Go figure. I think I wrote that draft when I was half-asleep, LOL.**

**Diva Actress- I _just_ finished To Kill a Mockingbird recently and it's pretty much become my favorite book. It's amazing. Anyway, I referenced it because part of the book focuses on the bond between a young girl named Scout and her older brother, Jem. Reading it, I was struck by how similar they were to Trai and Danny in some respects. If none of you have read _Mockingbird, The Bell Jar, _or _The Catcher in the Rye_ (all of which I believe I've alluded to), do so! They're amazing books.**

**ForLoveOrMoney- Yes, I do feel bad for killing off Danny, but it was what I had to do. I'm really glad you like Roger and Trai; the bond between them is something I pulled from a few of the roleplays I'm in where I use Trai as my OC. (In one of them, Roger is like a really overprotective older brother figure for Trai, and it's very entertaining, to say the least. XD) They will get closer as the story goes on.**

**To warn all of you—while I'm trying to update more regularly, my AP Euro exam is looming on the horizon, and that will consume some of my time. I hope to keep updating, but things may change.**

**Have a nice week! Thanks for all the praise!**

**- Divine Sally Bowles**


	7. Everything Will Be Alright

Chapter Seven  
Everything Will Be Alright

Trai woke up early one Friday morning late in January to a knock at the door. She'd been living with Mark for about three weeks by now, and she knew that Mark had gotten in late the night before. She didn't want whomever it was to wake him up, and so stumbled out of bed, pulling on a pair of boxer shorts over her old t-shirt and panties.

Smoothing her hair, she stumbled out of the bedroom and to the door. It was Roger.

"Morning?" she questioned, yawning.

"Sorry for waking you," Roger apologized. "Uh… I was wondering… I've been getting a cough lately, and I don't want to get Mimi sick, what with the baby and everything…"

"You want to stay here for a while?" Trai asked, stretching a bit.

Roger nodded. "I don't think Mark would mind… I mean, this loft used to be a way tighter fit," he laughed.

Trai smiled. "He's mentioned that. Here, you want some tea? I can make it."

"Sure," Roger nodded and followed her into the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table.

Trai pulled down the ingredients for tea and set the water to boil, sitting down. "So how's Mimi doing?"

"She's good. Really good," Roger said with a smile. "We came up with names—Lauren Faith for a girl. Seth for a boy; no middle name yet."

Trai smiled. She and Roger had been talking over the weeks, and they were starting to become friends; she'd been talking with Mimi as well. "Sounds good," she remarked, getting up and pouring two cups of water, putting in the tea bags. She set the sugar, milk, and honey out on the table.

"How's your novel going?"

"Eh." Trai shrugged. "It's been better. Much better. But it's coming along… slowly."

"Mark helping at all with inspiration?" Roger cracked. Trai laughed, though she was blushing. "A lot," she admitted. "He's been great. And—thanks, Roger. For—for what you told me when we were on the fire escape. I—after my ex I really wasn't sure I could be in a relationship. But Mark's… Mark's just like you said."

Roger smiled and touched her hand. "I'm glad."

* * *

"Angie?"

Trai came up slowly behind Angie, who was sitting in the coffee house, crying. She sat down slowly next to her friend. "Honey… are you okay?"

Angie shook her head. "N—no."

"What is it?" Trai asked softly, putting her arm around her friend supportively. She noticed that Angie had a band-aid on her arm, covering the better part of what looked like a needle bruise.

She brushed it tenderly with her fingers, her mind flashing on all the times she'd seen Danny with similar bruises. Had Angie gotten into smack? _No… please no…_

"Ang, what's this?" she asked quietly.

Angie looked up at her, her eyes red. "Blood test," she whispered.

Trai blanched. "Sweetie, why…? What did you…?"

Angie shut her eyes and whispered, "D—Danny and I were together… in a relationship… ever since you introduced us… we didn't want to tell you because it was too weird… and we… we had sex a few days before he… before he d—died… and I'm late," she said quietly, burying her face in her hands.

Trai gaped at her best friend, speechless. That was a lot of information to take in that fast. "So you could be…"

"Pregnant… or infected… or both," Angie managed, her head in her hands.

Trai pulled her friend into a tight hug, holding Angie close as she cried. She felt horrible. Why hadn't she known? Why hadn't either of them told her?  
"When do you find out?" she asked gently.

"Today," Angie whispered, gripping Trai's hand painfully tight. "Come with me… please… I can't do this alone…"

"And I wouldn't let you," Trai soothed her friend, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. "It's okay, sweetie… I promise, I _promise_ that whatever happens, I'm here…"

"I miss Danny," Angie whispered, numb.

Trai held her closer, rubbing her back. "I miss him too," she said quietly.

* * *

Angie sat in the hospital waiting room with Trai, her leg bouncing nervously. She felt ready to throw up—from stress, hopefully.

She leaned her head back against the wall, shutting her eyes, and Trai took her hand and squeezed it. "It's okay, Ang… it's okay…"

Finally, after another two minutes Angie was called into a room. Trai headed in with her, concerned and worried. Her best friend was falling apart, and now potentially infected with HIV by her brother, or carrying her brother's child, not to mention that she hadn't even known they were involved.

Trai squeezed Angie's hand comfortingly, wishing she could do more. Finally the doctor came in.

"Hi, Ms. Jamison," she said with a smile. She was a pretty blond, short but cute. "I'm Doctor Hahn. I administered your blood test last week, if you recall."

Angie just nodded. She could recall every detail, which was surprising considering she'd been terrified.

Hahn glanced towards Trai. "Moral support?"

Trai managed a weak smile. "Trai Buscemi."

Hahn nodded and shook her hand, saying softly, "I'm sorry for your loss. Truly." Trai nodded in acknowledgement and held Angie's hand.

"Well, the good news, Ms. Jamison, is that your HIV test was negative, as was your pregnancy test. However, I'd like you to come in every month or so for the next few months to have more blood drawn. Unfortunately, the results of the HIV test are sometimes false. But for now, Ms. Jamison, you're in the clear," Hahn told her with a soft smile.

Angie looked incredibly relieved, though a little unsteady still. Trai helped her up and watched as Angie gave Hahn a long hug. Hahn returned the embrace, knowing what it must be like for them.

"Thank you so much," Angie whispered to Hahn.

"No problem," Hahn said softly.

Trai led Angie to the ladies' room so she could clean up a bit. Still, once they were inside, Angie gagged and threw up in one of the toilets.

"Oh my God, Ang, are you okay?" Trai asked, rushing to Angie's side. "What is it?"

"Nerves," Angie gasped, sinking slowly to the floor. Stress had made her sick, and Trai gently wiped her friend's face with a wet paper towel, concerned.

"I wanted it," Angie whispered after five minutes or so.

"Wanted what?" Trai asked gently, sitting besides her on the floor.

"I wanted… I wanted him to have infected me… I _wanted_ to have his baby… because—because if I was infected, it wouldn't take long until I died… and… and I always wanted kids… and he was the only one I wanted them with…"

Trai felt close to tears. She and Angie were really close, and she missed her brother so much. Knowing they'd been involved, knowing they'd been so happy, killed her.

Trai rubbed her back. "I wish that things had been different for you guys," she whispered. "I really do."

Angie sighed and rested her head on Trai shoulder. Trai put her arm around her friend and pulled her close.

* * *

Trai returned home exhausted. Mark noticed this and asked, "Everything okay?" as she sat down at the kitchen table. Roger was playing his guitar in the spare room he'd be sleeping in.

"Things got hectic," Trai told him. "Angie—that's my best friend; I'll introduce you guys someday—I didn't know it, but… she and Danny had been in a relationship. Like… a _relationship_ relationship… and she thought that she might've been infected, or pregnant."

Mark exhaled slowly. "That's rough," he said sympathetically. "Is she okay?"

"Now she is. She was a little shaken up, but everything turned out fine. I stayed with her for a little bit."

Mark sat down across from her, reaching out to take her hand. "Are _you_ okay?" he asked softly.

Trai sighed. "I hate that question," she said quietly. "I… I really don't know," she said quietly.

He squeezed her shoulder. "It'll sound clichéd, but… things get better, Trai. I promise you that they do."

Trai gave him a small smile, grateful for the comfort. "Can I be alone for a little while?" she asked quietly.

Mark touched her cheek, running his thumb along it softly. "Sure," he said gently. "Do whatever you need."

Trai stood and said quietly, "Mark… I'm really sorry if I'm putting you through hell… this… this is why Jason used to hit me…"

"Hey. Hey," Mark said softly, stepping closer to her and pulling her into an embrace. "I would _never _hurt you like that," he said, very gently. "You don't deserve that. You never did. Jason is a sick bastard for doing that to you and he deserves to be punished."

"I hope he is," Trai said shakily. "I really do." She hugged Mark back for a moment before she disappeared into the bathroom.

Mark could hear the muffled sounds of her crying, but not wanting anyone to hear. Roger poked his head out the door. "She okay?" he asked Mark, concerned.

"A little overwhelmed, I think," Mark told him, his eyes never leaving the bathroom door. He was concerned, but knew she needed time alone.

He distracted himself by returning to his room and attempting to bang out a few pages of his latest project, an annoyingly slow-moving screenplay. Finally, after an hour or so, Mark figured that Trai had probably gone into her room. He decided to take a shower, and grabbed a towel from the closet, going into the bathroom.

To his surprise, Trai was still there, sitting on the counter of the sink, her eyes red from crying.

"Sorry," she said quietly, starting to get up. "You want me to—?"

"No, it's all right. I'm just taking a shower. One of man's greatest inventions, the curtain, means you don't have to see what you don't want to."

Trai smiled weakly at his attempt at humor. She looked away as he pulled off his clothes and stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

Mark turned the water to a fairly decent heat and let it hit against his back. He put his arm against the wall, angling under the showerhead so more of his body was hit by the water. He sighed in content as the steam clouded the room, raising the temperature.

Trai leaned her head back against the mirror, closing her eyes. She was feeling better now, and hearing Mark in the shower made her realize what she really wanted.

Hesitantly, remembering what Jason had done to her years ago in the shower back home, she got down off the counter and started to pull off her clothes. Once she was fully undressed, she took a deep breath and pulled open the curtain.

Mark turned, startled, even more surprised when he realized that she was naked.

Without a word, Trai stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain behind her. Mark surveyed her wordlessly. She was beautiful. The scars lining her body, remnants of her abuse, barely fazed him.

When he could speak he managed, "Are you sure you want to…?"

Trai nodded, stepping closer to him. "I need this," she whispered. "I… I need… I _want_ to know what love's like when it's not forced… I've wanted this for so long, Mark… and I want you to be the one to give it to me," she whispered.

Mark pressed her against the wall behind her, kissing her deeply. Trai kissed him back. The kissing grew in passion until Mark could feel his own body responding to the feel of her against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his wet hair, feeling him do the same to her.

His mouth moved from her lips to her cheek, then to her neck.

"Mark?" Trai gasped, feeling his lips at her neck.

"Yeah?" Mark asked, breathless as his lips, his tongue, moved over her skin.

"Should we be doing this in the shower?"

Mark laughed softly into her neck. "Whatever you want," he murmured, laughing still.

Trai pulled him closer. Mark kissed her once more and then made love like he hadn't in so long.

When they were finished, Trai sank with him to the floor of the bathtub, unable to keep the smile off her face. Mark smiled too, touching her cheek, pulling her close.

"Love you," she murmured.

Mark kissed the top of her head. "Love you too," he said gently.

* * *

**A/N- Hey guys! **

"**Everything Will Be Alright" is a song by The Killers.**

**I Always Get It For Free x3- I love writing their scenes :) Trust me, if I were meeting my boyfriend's insane friends who are practically his family, I'd be feeling the same way Trai was, haha.**

**Tina101- The boho gang will be popping up more frequently, hopefully!**

**Diva Actress- … -no comment- Haha, just kidding. Yeah, they'll stay together… but to quote **_**Midsummer Night's Dream**_** (thank you English class), "the course of true love never did run smooth."**

**BroadwayBabe32- Should've phrased it better; I meant Mimi couldn't drink alcohol.**

**Again, for all the people who have me on their alerts list and haven't reviewed, please do so? I'd really appreciate the feedback! And thanks to all those that put me on their favorites!**

**Have a lovely week, everyone!**

**- Divine Sally Bowles**


	8. Snow White Queen

Chapter Eight  
Snow White Queen

"Trai?" Roger asked softly as he quietly pushed open the door to her room. His room was next to hers, and he'd been able to hear her—she wasn't sleeping well. As he opened the door, the sight of her in bed confirmed this. Lying twisted in the sheets, she was sleeping fitfully, tossing, her face streaked with tears even in sleep. She was whimpering, crying. "No… no… _no…_"

Roger suddenly remembered her telling him that her boyfriend had been abusive. Worried about her, he slowly walked to the bed and put his hand on her shoulder. "Trai?" he repeated softly. "Trai, wake up…"

Trai bolted awake, trembling badly. She instinctively pulled away from his touch, whimpering, "Don't… don't…"

"It's okay," Roger whispered, pulling his hand away and sitting at the edge of the bed, holding up his hands so that she knew he wouldn't hurt her. "It's me. It's Roger."

Trai nodded shakily, putting her head in her hands as she cried. When she calmed down, she managed hoarsely, "Thanks… for waking me…"

"No problem," Roger said gently. "Can I ask…?"

Trai swallowed and whispered, "Nightmares. Of my ex. I've been having them on and off since Mark and I got together."

"Maybe you should talk to someone?" Roger suggested gently.

Trai sighed. "It's not the way I am. I'm… I'm trying to work on it. With Mark. I just… it's hard. I don't want him to know how much was done to me."

"Until you talk about it, the nightmares may not stop," Roger told her softly, trying not to sound critical.

"I need to give it a little time," Trai murmured, visibly upset.

Roger nodded. "I can understand that." He put his hand on her shoulder. "If you ever need to talk… Mark, Mimi, and I are here."

Trai gave him a small smile. "That's really sweet of you to say. Thanks."

Roger smiled back. "No problem." He got up. "Sleep well, okay?" he said softly.

Trai's grin wavered just the tiniest bit, but she nodded and lay back down, slowly closing her eyes and falling asleep.

* * *

"Hey, Mark?"

The morning after he and Trai had had sex, Mark barely looked up from pouring coffee. "Yeah?" he addressed Roger.

"Next time you fuck her, can you _not_ do it in the shower?"

Mark scalded his fingers.

He glanced up sharply at Roger. "You heard us?" he demanded.

Roger snickered. "Walls are thin, Don Juan. Mimi probably heard you downstairs, for all I know."

Mark groaned. Roger snickered, very clearly enjoying this. "Hey, look at it this way, now you can get revenge for all those nights April and I must've kept you up."

Mark glared. "Not funny." He took his coffee mug and sat down at the table.

"I'm just joking," Roger reassured him. "I think it's great you found someone. She's really sweet, and she seems really good for you."

Mark sighed. "I just… sometimes I feel like I don't know what I'm doing. I love her, but… but she was abused, and I don't know how to handle that."

"She's been having nightmares," Roger told him quietly. "I woke her up last night; she was crying in her sleep."

Mark breathed out slowly. "Shit," he sighed. "I think I might be the cause."

"Why would you think that?"

"We slept together… she's never had anything intimate without it being forced. Maybe I scared her… shit…"

"I'm sure it's not you," Roger assured him. "I think she's just been through a lot, and she needs to process it somehow."

Mark rubbed at his temples. "I guess."

The door to Trai's bedroom opened, and she slowly emerged, looking tired. Roger wondered if she'd slept for more than an hour or so after he'd left her.

"Hey," Mark said softly, getting up and giving her a kiss. "Everything okay?"

Trai nodded and said quietly, "I'm fine."

Roger got up and told them, "Mimi has a doctor's appointment today so I'm going with her. I'll probably start staying with her again in a day or two."

Mark nodded. "Is she doing okay?"

"As far as I know. Let's hope for the best." Roger said good-bye to Trai and Mark and left them alone in the loft.

Trying to decide what to say as Trai sat next to him, absently sipping her coffee, Mark settled for finally saying gently, "Roger told me what happened last night."

Trai stiffened and whispered, "Mark, it was nothing. Please let it go. It was nothing."

"I wasn't… Trai, if I hurt you last night… I'm really sorry…"

"It wasn't you," Trai whispered. "I never want you to think it's you."

Mark nodded slowly. "If you say so," he said gently.

* * *

"Rog, stop pacing. It's kind of annoying."

"I can't help it. I'm nervous."

Mimi grabbed his wrist and pulled him to sit beside her in one of the chairs in the clinic waiting room. "Baby, if you're nervous before a doctor's appointment—_my _doctor's appointment; not even yours—how the hell are you going to be at the wedding in a couple weeks?"

Roger groaned. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Fine thing when a fiancé forgets his wedding is coming up."

"You be quiet… I've had other things on my mind…"

Mimi squeezed his shoulder. "Everything will be fine, Roger."

Roger had moved what stuff he'd taken with him to Mark's back into his and Mimi's loft after leaving that morning, and now was accompanying Mimi to her first doctor's appointment concerning the baby. She was about to start her third month in February, and they wanted to make sure everything was okay. He was nervous, more so than Mimi, for some reason. He was worried the doctors would tell them that something was wrong with the baby, that Mimi wasn't doing well…

Roger Davis wasn't one to stress out, but he was doing so now.

Roger sighed. "I'm just trying to keep up with everything right now… I mean, there's this appointment—you know doctors freak me out… Maureen and Joanne want to adopt… and Mark has a girlfriend. _Mark_ has a girlfriend… that's still taking some getting used to."

"By the way… last night, did they…?"

Roger smirked and nodded. "You could hear too?"

Mimi laughed. "The walls aren't the only thing that's thin."

A nurse came out from behind the desk. "Maria Marquez?"

The two of them got up and followed the nurse to a room. Mimi was given a gown to change into and then they were instructed to wait for the obstetrician, who arrived a few minutes later.

"Hi, Maria, Roger," she said with a small smile. She offered her hand to Mimi and then Roger. "I'm Doctor Montgomery; I'll be taking care of you for the rest of your pregnancy." She motioned for Mimi to lie back. "We're going to do an ultrasound, okay?"

She set up the machine squirted some of the ultrasound gel onto Mimi's stomach, apologizing for its coldness, and then started the procedure.

"Hear that?" she asked them. "That's the baby's heartbeat."

Roger glanced at Mimi, standing next to her and taking her hand. "That's amazing," Mimi said softly. Roger squeezed her hand and said softly, "Completely amazing."

* * *

Trai came home at about six that evening, having been out all day trying to find a dress. Mimi had asked her to be a bridesmaid, since her only female friends were Maureen and Joanne, and she wanted to include Trai in the wedding. The wedding was extremely informal, and she'd told Trai to get whatever dress she wanted. Trai had finally found something she liked, a nice yellow dress that she thought was at least a bit flattering.

"Mark? I'm home!" she called as she shut the door behind her and tossed her keys onto the table by the door. Mark came out of the bedroom, shaving cream still streaked along his jaw as he finished shaving.

"Hey," he greeted her. He noticed the garment bag in her hands and asked, "That your dress for the wedding?"

Trai nodded and held it at arm's length to scrutinize it. "You think it makes me look like a banana?"

"Dunno. Try it on and we'll see."

Trai shrugged. "Might as well. Don't laugh at it, okay?"

"I'm sure you'll look fine."

Trai disappeared into her bedroom to change into the dress. She came back out wearing it, having twisted her hair up into a bun. She twirled a bit to show it to him and then asked, "Like? Don't like?"

"It'll look better on the floor," Mark joked.

Trai rolled her eyes and whacked him on the arm. "You have a sick mind, love. What do you really think?"

"It looks good on you. I really like it. And you don't look like a banana."

"Very good to know. I'm going to go change out of this… you want me to make dinner?"

"Sure, if you want."

"I don't mind; I like cooking. Gimme two seconds."

She changed into an old t-shirt and sweatpants, then rummaged into the cabinets for some spaghetti to make dinner. Once she'd set the water to heat, she leaned against the counter and asked Mark, "How'd your day go?"

"Nothing really special," Mark shrugged as he sat down at the kitchen table. "My screenplay is very frustratingly slow-moving."

"I know that feeling. My novel has been the same way. Morrie's been on me to finish it by March."

"I could help with inspiration tonight," Mark volunteered with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

Trai smiled. "Hmm… I think I'll take you up on that."

* * *

Trai hadn't been willing to admit that her nightmares had led to other things. Despite the fact that she knew Mark wouldn't hurt her, Trai found that now, lying beside him in bed after they'd finished, she had to breathe deeply to keep from panicking.

"Trai?" Mark asked softly, reaching over to touch her shoulder. "You're shaking like a leaf. Are you okay?"

Trai was starting to hyperventilate, shaking badly, holding the sheets close to her naked body as she sat up and pulled away from his touch. She'd been too caught up in the shower to even think about it, but the advent of her nightmares had her panicking now that she and Mark had made love again.

"Trai?" Mark whispered, really concerned now.

Trai stumbled out of bed, hurriedly pulling on her clothes. Mark got up, only wearing his boxers himself, and said, not wanting to touch her and scare her more, "Trai—if I upset you—"

She stood there trembling, trying to breathe deeply, pulling on her shirt, shutting her eyes for a second and whispering finally, "Mark… I—I can't… not now… I can't…"

She ran from the loft.

Once she was out of the building, she kept running.

* * *

_"You whore! Don't lie to me! Where were you tonight?"_

_"Jason, I swear to God! It was getting late and Amos wanted to drive me home! He didn't want me to get _hurt_!" Trai yelled at Jason. Danny had been diagnosed six months ago._

_For six months now, she'd been in hell._

_Jason slapped her across the face. Trai winced in pain but quickly regained composure._

_Jason was drunk. It wasn't the first time._

_He pushed her against the wall, clawing at her jeans, fumbling with the zipper. "You're not going to cheat on me, you bitch… you whore… you're mine…"_

"_I'm not fucking property!" Trai yelled, trying to push him off, but he threw his weight against her and kept her pinned as he shoved down her panties. He derived more pleasure from her kicking and struggling._

_Once he was done, he shoved her to the floor, leaving to go into their room. She was beaten, aching, her thighs streaked with blood. Trying so desperately not to cry, she tried to regain some of her dignity, painstakingly pulling her panties and jeans back on._

_It was no use._

_Jason had taken everything.

* * *

_

Trai didn't look where she was going. She'd lived in the City for years, knew it like the back of her hand. She ran because she could, because she was upset, because she loved Mark but was too traumatized to even realize that he wouldn't do to her what Jason would.

She ran until she reached Central Park, collapsing on a bench and starting to cry. She hated letting anyone see her break down, and she never wanted Mark to see her do so.

Trai cried for a long while before she noticed how dark it was getting. She knew the way home—if it was even her home anymore after she'd just ran. She slowly walked back to the loft.

Mark was sitting in the living room, waiting for her. She sat down slowly on the opposite end of the couch.

"I'm sorry," Mark said softly.

Trai shook her head. "That was my fault. It wasn't you."

"I shouldn't have pressured—"

Trai moved closer to him and pressed her finger to his lips. "I never want you to think that it's you," she whispered, just as she had this morning. "It's Jason. Jason did this to me and no one else."

She took a second to breathe before she said, her voice quiet, "You want me to tell you how it happened?"

Mark touched her cheek and whispered, "Only if you want to."

Trai began hesitantly, "I was 21. Bartending. I needed it for character research, and even though I had a full ride to Dartmouth, my parents still covered some of my expenses, and I felt bad, so I was paying them back…"

"Are you sure that you're ready to talk about this?"

Trai didn't know. She'd cried telling Angie and Danny. "I have to," she whispered. "I _want_ to…"

"Just don't push yourself… please…" Mark whispered, taking her hands into his.

"It was July 23rd. I'd just broken up with my boyfriend Ethan and I needed… I needed _something_. Jason was cute, he was drunk, and he liked me. He flirted and I flirted right back. I asked if I could walk him home. He said yes and I did. When we got to his front porch, he kissed me and asked me to dinner. I said yes."

Mark nodded, not wanting to interrupt. He laced his fingers with hers.

"When I was 23 he said he wanted to get engaged. We wanted my dad's approval so I took him home for Christmas." She swallowed hard, remembering. "No one could find Danny. I—I did… in the bathroom… half-dead from an overdose. His HIV test results were with him," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Mark remembered the day Roger had pulled April from the tub, how he'd held her lifeless body and sobbed while Mark fumbled to call 911…

"I didn't know that," he whispered, stroking her cheek. "I'm so, so sorry."

"You—you couldn't have known… my parents called an ambulance and went to the hospital… I was really overwhelmed and I just couldn't do it… I didn't want Jason to see me cry so I went into the shower… he…" She drew in her breath, tears starting to stream down her cheeks. "The first time he raped me was that night," she whispered.

"When he was done, he hit me. Hard enough to draw blood. Told me if I ever told anyone I'd regret it… after what he'd just done I believed him. So I didn't say anything… to anyone…

"Danny knew. He guessed. When I went to see him in rehab he'd interrogate me every time… b—but… but I never told."

She moved closer to him, not saying anything more, resting her head on his shoulder and trembling badly. Mark wrapped his arms around her and rocked her slowly. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," he whispered into her ear. "I'm so damned sorry… I wish it wasn't true…"

"Me too," Trai whispered, close to tears again. "Me too…"

Mark pulled her closer, feeling her heart pounding against his. "I love you so much," he soothed her quietly. "I would never, ever hurt you like that… you're safe with me."

Trai held him tightly. "I love you too," she managed.

Mark stroked her hair. "Never again. I'm never letting that happen to you ever again."

Trai's voice was hoarse as she whispered, "Thanks, Mark…"

"It's no problem," Mark whispered. "I love you. I'd do anything for you."

"I—I'm sorry if I upset you…"

"You didn't upset me." Mark stroked her cheek. "It was very brave of you to tell it to me."

"Thanks for listening to me," Trai whispered.

Mark tilted her tear-streaked face to his and kissed her softly. "Anytime," he whispered. "I love you… anytime."

* * *

**A/N- 'Ello loves! I'm back and I've done something incredibly rare for me—actually drafted out the rest of this story, which works out to twenty-four chapters now. (This explains why I never draft.) Hopefully this means I'll be able to update faster.**

"**Snow White Queen" is a song by Evanescence that really creepily fits the relationship between Jason and Trai.**

**Angel718- Thanks!!**

**I Always Get It For Free x3- Sometimes I feel bad for killing off Danny too, LOL. There will be some flashbacks to her and Danny's relationship as the story goes on.**

**Tina101- Trai's a nickname for Tracy :)**

**Scififreakmi- Thankies!!**

**Mark's Maureen- Steph, I don't even want to know what your parents must think of me by now…**

**BroadwayBabe32- Thanks!**

**Diva Actress- We're learning **_**Midsummer**_** in class and I love love love it; it may well make an appearance later in the story XD And the shower sex scene was definitely fun to write, LOL.**

**Forloveormoney- Thanks! Trai knows Mark won't hurt her, which is why she doesn't panic initially; while she is still traumatized, she does feel comfortable with him, enough so that she won't panic after this chapter. I've been trying to get Trai's mindset down about how she'd react due to her past.**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Thanks as always!**

**Next update should come soon—lots of love coming next chapter; I'm planning on Valentine's Day, Roger and Mimi's wedding, and a couple other surprises… XD**

**Have a great day!**

**- Sally**


	9. Funny Honey

Chapter Nine  
Funny Honey

"Angie, I'm not doing this. Not even for you. I'm not doing this."

Angie tightened her grip on Trai's wrist. "I'm your best friend, honey, and as a result I've seen your closet. You have nothing remotely sexy in the way of lingerie," Angie informed her friend as she pulled her through the mall.

"D'you think I needed it when I was with Jason?" Trai muttered.

Angie winced. "Dammit. Sorry. Anyway, you asked for my help buying Valentine's Day gifts for Mark; I say, this is the best you can give a guy," she remarked as she pulled Trai into Victoria's Secret.

"Angie, seriously."

"Friends don't let friends not get some."

A nearby clerk stifled her laughter. Trai groaned.

"It's pathetic! I don't know what to get him! We've been dating for a month and a half and I don't know what to get him! Aren't you supposed to know by now? Goddammit, I don't think he even knows my middle name!"

"… Roseanna?"

"See, you know it!"

"Sweetie, I've known you for nine years."

"I really don't know what to do," Trai groaned. "How the hell is it that I write romances and yet I have no idea what to do about this?"

"Maybe because your romances involve fangs and fur?"

Trai pretended not to hear. "Maybe I should go to Roger. That's what you're supposed to do, right? Go to his best friend?… Maybe I should tell him I don't celebrate Valentine's Day… and dammit, the wedding is on the 7th …"

"Wedding?" Angie questioned as she perused the lingerie, despite Trai's attempts to free her wrist from her best friend's grasp.

Trai nodded. "His best friends, Roger and Mimi. I'm actually a bridesmaid; Mimi's only real friends were their friends Maureen and Joanne, and she wanted to include me. I think they're just glad Mark's not gay or celibate."

Angie laughed. "That boy has no luck with women, does he?"

"Nope. Maureen had him whipped, or so they tell me. Do you want to meet him sometime, by the way?"

"I'd like to scout him, yeah. Hey, maybe we should bring Micah."

"Um, I'd rather not have my boyfriend be given a death threat… Micah's way too overprotective."

Angie held up a red bra and panties. "Like?"

"It's not so bad," Trai admitted.

"Ah! There we go. You're smiling. You're enjoying this. Admit it."

"Fine. But only because the last time I did this, the circumstances were less than ideal."

Angie raised an eyebrow. "And when was this?"

Trai smirked. "Danny took me to buy my first thong."

Angie cracked up laughing. "Are you _serious_?"

"Hell yes I am. I was sixteen; he was seventeen. I needed one for a costume I was wearing to a party—don't ask. Our mom was out of town, there was no way in hell I was asking my dad, so I went to Danny and very innocently asked if he could drive me to the mall. He asked why, so of course I told him. I seem to recall his words on leaving me in the Intimates department were '_I don't wanna _hear_ about it, I don't wanna _see_ it, and I don't want _details_!'_"

Angie was still laughing. "That is so like him. I remember once to get rid of him I had to start talking about tampons."

"If I even mentioned my period around him, he'd freak. Then again, my dad and Danny adopted a very strict 'don't ask, don't tell' policy on my mom's and my womanly issues. Thong buying included."

Both of them realized soon after leaving the store—Trai with a more extensive lingerie collection than she'd had previously—that it was the first time they'd discussed Danny since the hospital visit a few weeks previously. Remembering that day, Trai glanced over at Angie. "You doing okay?" she asked softly.

Angie nodded. "I'm still HIV-negative. Overall, I'm… I'm decent. And, um… I have some stuff of his at my apartment… he told me to set some things aside for you."

Trai nodded. "Thanks, Ang. Can I ask… how serious were you guys, exactly?"

Angie sighed. "Like I said, we were in a relationship since you introduced us. If you remember, I'd just broken up with Norah. He asked me if I wanted to get some coffee and I said yes. We talked, and just kept talking. Eventually we started dating—usually we'd go out when he came to visit you.

"Until he got into smack, we were doing really well," Angie said quietly. "He told me he wanted to get married, and I did too… we were planning to tell you… but he was under a lot of pressure and he wanted to wait, so I said okay." She breathed out a slow sigh. "Next thing I knew, you called to tell me about the overdose."

Trai squeezed Angie's hand. "I'm so sorry, honey," she said quietly. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

Mark glanced over at Roger. "What d'you think about candles?"

Roger shrugged. "Chicks like stuff like that. Who knows, maybe we'll have a power outage like we did three Christmases ago and you'll actually have a reason to use them."

"Don't remind me. Do you know _anything_ about planning a romantic evening?"

"Mimi and I just have each other. It's all we need."

Mark sighed and buried his head in his hands. "I've never done this before. I never did this with Maureen. I don't know what to do!"

Roger held back a smirk. Trai had come to him the day before—bearing a Victoria's Secret bag, no less—and had said almost exactly the same thing. To say the least, this was entertaining. "Well, a bit of advice—don't overdo it. You don't want to scare off the one straight, interested woman you've been able to attract."

"Shut _up_." Mark sighed. "I think I should talk to her. Find out what she likes. Maybe that would help…"

Roger nodded. "Seems reasonable."

"I just… as much as she tells me she's okay, I'm still scared for her after she panicked… I don't know what will happen if she loses it completely… she doesn't even really cry in front of people. It just bothers me that she's so guarded—I don't want it to end up hurting her in the end."

"She'll open up," Roger assured him. "Remember how I was before I met Mimi? She changed that for me, and I'm sure that you'll do that for Trai. Once she's comfortable with you, she'll start letting you in more."

Mark nodded slowly. Talking things over with Roger, at least, was helping.

"You guys got everything ready for the wedding?" Roger asked.

"Sure," Mark lied easily. The wedding was in five days—February 7th—and Roger had asked Mark to be his best man, which meant a speech. While Mark had been honored and more than happy to oblige, he was having trouble finding words. Trai had been helping him a bit, but he still felt like the result was sub-par.

Roger breathed out slowly. "I hope we can pull everything off."

* * *

"Can I confess something to you?"

Trai and Mark were relaxing after dinner that night. Mark was sitting on the couch; Trai was lying with her head in his lap, her legs dangling over the arm of the couch. Mark looked down at her as she spoke, and nodded. "Sure." He stroked her hair.

"I feel like… I feel like somehow, we don't know enough about each other," Trai confessed. "That preparing for this holiday has become an absolute hell because I have _no_ idea what to get you and I don't know if you're having the same problem. If you are…" she raised her hands. "Please agree with me."

Mark had to smile. "Don't worry. I do."

"So… we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The hard way being we keep acting like the obstinate idiots we are and don't tell each other what we really like, the easy way being that I can tell you everything I can possibly think of about me."

"I like the easy way."

Trai sat up. Mark rubbed her shoulders, helping to ease the tension in her back. She gave him a grateful smile and started to talk.

"My real name isn't Trai. Obviously. It's Tracy. Tracy Roseanna Buscemi. I hate being called by my real first name and I always will. Morrie doesn't even know it. The only other nickname I'd willingly submit to being called was 'Scout', and Danny was the only one I'd allow to do it.

"My favorite book is _To Kill a Mockingbird_, very obviously. When I was sixteen I had a longstanding crush on a fictional character—Mr. Darcy. Don't laugh. I've seen too many movies to name a favorite. I cry at chick flicks. I sing in the shower. I like old musicals and I like to act. I have low self-esteem. My hair has its own zip code when it's humid, and my PMS is a bitch.

"Favorite ice cream, mint chocolate chip. I have a thing for strawberries. I love roast chicken. I drink more Dr. Pepper than a normal human being should. If we ever have a fight, bring me chocolate and I will very likely forgive you of anything. Pizza is a guilty pleasure and for some reason I love Chinese food. My favorite alcoholic drink is tequila but my hangovers are _not _pretty. I am a complete lightweight and I will be the first to admit it."

Mark smiled. "So I know never to get you drunk, never to call you Scout, to always tell you your hair looks fine, and to disregard the fact that you've probably compared me to Mr. Darcy?"

Trai laughed. "Sounds about right."

* * *

Mimi sighed and leaned against the wall of the bathroom stall in the church, wiping her mouth with a paper towel. It was about an hour before the wedding, nearly time to get ready, and yet she'd been sick for the past half hour or so. A combination of morning sickness and nerves, she guessed.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Mimi?"

"Come in," she called.

Maureen, Joanne, and Trai came into the bathroom. Mimi had to smile—they all looked great. She could tell that Trai was a little nervous still—though she and Trai had been getting friendly, she knew that Trai was still a little nervous around Maureen and Joanne, being that Maureen was Mark's ex. Mimi got up slowly and told them, "You all look amazing."

"You feeling okay?" Joanne asked, concerned.

Mimi waved a hand. "Pregnancy sucks," she informed all of them, who laughed.

"I guess you could say it's worth it in the end, though," Trai said, leaning over one of the sinks and fixing her makeup.

"Yeah, I agree with you there," Mimi nodded. She glanced at Maureen and Joanne. "Any progress on the adoption papers?" They'd applied to get papers that would put them in the list of prospective adoptive parents.

Joanne smiled widely and nodded. "Just got them yesterday."

Mimi grinned. "Congratulations, you guys. You think you want a boy or a girl?"

"We haven't decided," Maureen told her, leaning against the wall. "But we've been coming up with names for either."

"We like Rachel, for a girl," Joanne said with a smile.

"What about you, Trai? You and Mark ever talked about it?" Mimi asked her.

Trai was putting on her foundation when she replied, "Once or twice. He wants to have kids; so do I. I'd rather we be married first. I entertain the notion once in a while. Thought if I ever have a son maybe I'd name him after my brother."

They chatted for a bit about the plans Mimi and Maureen and Joanne had for the kids, when finally it was time to help Mimi get ready.

Mimi got into her dress, letting Trai zip up the back, while Maureen did her makeup and Joanne did her hair. Mimi sighed. "Sucks to think that in the next couple of months I won't even be able to fit into this dress."

"Yeah, but we'll all love you anyway," Maureen told her with a smile. "You'll still look great, Meems."

"Hope Roger thinks so. Actually, the only thing I hope right now is that he's not freaking out."

* * *

"Roger. Calm down. The last time I saw you smoking like this was when we first started living together. We're outside a church, for Christ's sake," Mark mumbled under his breath.

"Shut up. Please shut up. I'm nervous. This is what I do when I'm nervous."

Mark held up his hands. "I'm just saying."

"I don't get it." Roger was pacing. "I don't get why I'm so nervous. This is _Mimi_. I'm getting married to Mimi. I don't want to spend my life with anyone else. She's having my child… goddammit, why am I freaking out?"

"It is natural, Rog." Mark reminded him. "Trust me, if Trai and I make it far enough to get married, I can guarantee you I'll be worse."

Roger thought about it and snorted with laughter. "Christ. You'd be a damned sight before a wedding…"

Mark rolled his eyes. "Okay, that did not give you the right to make fun of me. C'mon. Ash the cigarette and let's go get changed."

Roger did as Mark asked and followed Mark into one of the rooms off to the side of the altar, where Collins and Benny were gathered.

"Hey, guys," Roger said, smiling gratefully, glad that all his friends were here. He knew that Mimi probably felt the same way. The guys exchanged greetings and embraces and then started to get changed into their tuxes.

"How's Trai doing, Mark?" Collins asked as Mark attempted to make heads or tails of his bow tie, something he'd never been good at.

"She's fine. We've been doing well. She hasn't shown any signs of leaving me for a woman."

"Well, that's good to know," Benny laughed.

"How's that romantic evening planning coming along?" Roger asked.

"Actually, really well, now. She told me a lot of stuff about herself—at least I know her favorite foods now, which is a start. How's Mimi?"

"Nervous, like me. The doctor says everything's fine with the baby." Roger breathed out slowly. "I just hope that today goes all right."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Mark assured him, looking over at Benny and Collins. "What about you guys?"

"Well, we both had failed attempts at dating," Collins shrugged. Benny confirmed the statement with a nod.

"Give it a bit more time," Roger suggested.

Mark nodded. "Hey, look at me," he laughed.

"This is true," Benny laughed, looking at Collins. "If he can get a girl, anyone can."

Once the guys were dressed, it was time for the ceremony.

Roger took a breath, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. Mark put a hand on his shoulder. "This'll be one of the best days of your life," Mark reminded him softly. "You love her, and you love the baby."

"I'm so damned nervous," Roger sighed.

"Just relax. Think of how beautiful she'll look."

Roger breathed out a shuddery sigh. "You're right. Thanks, man."

Mark cuffed his shoulder. "You're welcome."

They slowly made their way up the aisle. They didn't have many guests, just the few that remained from Life Support, Roger's old band mates, and a few of Mimi's friends from the Catscratch. Benny and Collins took their seats in the pews while Mark and Roger stood on the altar, waiting for the girls.

Slowly, Maureen, Joanne, and Trai filed in. Mark had to marvel at Trai's appearance—she looked amazing. Yellow flattered her, and her hair was loose, falling to her shoulders in soft waves. Maureen and Joanne both looked wonderful.

Mimi entered behind them, and everyone turned to watch her as she made her way up the aisle. Roger's breath caught at how beautiful she looked. She'd put up her hair in a knot, and, in that moment, seeing her beauty and knowing she was carrying his child, Roger's beliefs were simply reaffirmed—she was the love of his life.

"You look amazing," he said softly to her when she stepped up in front of him, taking her hands in his. "You do too," she said softly.

The minister smiled at them both and announced, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of this man and this woman in holy matrimony. The promise they make to each other now is one of happiness and love. Maria? Repeat after me. I, Maria Marquez…"

Mimi breathed in slowly. "I, Maria Marquez…"

"Take thee, Roger…"

"Take thee, Roger…"

"As my lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, until death do us part."

Mimi repeated after the minister, trying not to think of how literal the "until death" part was for her and Roger, how frighteningly close the prospect seemed sometimes. Roger squeezed her hand, knowing how it was affecting her, and repeated after the minister as well.

The minister smiled widely. "Then by the power vested in me by the state of New York, you may kiss your bride."

Roger kissed her deeply, holding her close.

* * *

Everything went off without a hitch. Mark had finally written his speech, after staying up until practically two in the morning to do so, and enlisting Trai's help with some of the word choice and such. Now, all that was left was his romantic evening to plan.

Trai, meanwhile, was still stuck with gift giving. While she knew that Angie's suggestions would probably be much appreciated, she still wanted to get him something more, and so made another trip to the mall.

She settled finally on a new scarf for Mark, similar to his current one, which was starting to fall apart a bit since he'd had it for years.

She returned home the night of Valentine's Day from a day out at the park, writing and generally people-watching. She entered the loft to the smell of roast chicken, the food she'd mentioned to Mark, and raised an eyebrow. Had he done something to surprise her?

"Mark?" she called, suddenly caught off-guard when he wrapped her in his arms from behind, kissing her deeply.

"Did you do this all for me?" Trai asked him softly, noticing the candles spread around the loft.

"Yeah," Mark smiled. "Like it?"

"I love it," Trai smiled back, pecking his lips lightly.

Mark sat her at the table and served the chicken, also pouring the red wine he'd gotten. He watched her as she took a bite of the chicken. "Good? No good?"

"It's wonderful," Trai told him with a smile. "Mark, you really didn't have to."

"Don't say that. It's our first Valentine's Day together."

Trai sighed contentedly. "I love you," she said softly.

Mark squeezed her hand. "I love you too."

They finished the chicken, talking and laughing, and Mark scooped out the mint chocolate chip ice cream she'd also listed among her favorite foods. Once they'd finished and Mark had started washing the dishes, Trai disappeared into her bedroom and got his gift, in addition to one of the things she'd brought with Angie, changing into it quickly.

She emerged from the bedroom wearing a dark red nightgown that was absolutely gorgeous on her. Mark dropped the dish he was holding and kissed her deeply, before Trai pulled away and teased, "Don't you want the rest of your present?"

"What else can you give me?"

Trai handed him the wrapped package. "Open it."

Mark opened it and found the scarf. "I love it," he told her sincerely, kissing her again. "I love you."

Trai smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you too. So much."

* * *

**A/N- Hello lovelies! Sorry this took so long; I've been preparing for finals. Hopefully it was at least worth the wait. Next chapter will involve Mark meeting Angie and Trai's family XD**

"**Funny Honey" is a song from Chicago.**

**Tina101- Yep, things will be looking up. For a while, at least.**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Thanks for the compliments on the way I write Mark! My friend Bella has helped a lot with that. And I never draft either, but it definitely helped me to straighten out this story.**

**Domslove- Thanks so much! I did a lot of research to make sure everything's accurate. I've also read a lot of fics where Mimi has gotten an abortion or where the child has HIV, and I wanted to at least be a bit unique.**

**Scififreakmi- I wish that too, haha. I think that Mark has probably set the standard for future boyfriends –wink-**

**Diva Actress- Thanks! And I'm definitely reading more Shakespeare over the summer.**

**ForLoveOrMoney- Thanks!**

**BroadwayBabe32- Trai's life has definitely been a little tragic, but it's getting better.**

**I Always Get It For Free x3- Aww, I love when people have reactions to my characters. Thanks!**

**Mimimarquezc94- I definitely feel bad sometimes for tormenting my characters, but it had to have a bit of drama.**

**Angel718- Hopefully the update came fast enough XD**

**Mark's Maureen- Steph, you're mean. –wink-**

**Well, next update should come soon. My finals are almost here. Keep on the lookout!**

**Have a lovely week!**

**- Sally**


	10. The Sweetest Goodbye

**Quick note-- anyone who doesn't understand Italian, the translation for the one section is in the A/N.**

Chapter Ten  
The Sweetest Goodbye

The morning of March 1st, Trai woke to a kiss on her lips and the smell of coffee. She opened one eye and groaned as the sunlight intensified her headache, quickly shutting her eyes again.

Mark sat on the bed and gave her a sympathetic glance, rubbing her shoulder. They slept in the same bed now, most nights. Trai still had her own room, but she only went in there to write or if she was having a particularly bad night.

The source of Trai's headache was a bad hangover, the product of her drinking the night before with Angie. March 1st was the two-month anniversary of Danny's death, and they'd both had a bit too much to drink.

Trai managed to open her eyes again, just barely. They watered a little as she looked up at Mark. "I warned you my hangovers aren't pretty."

"Here, drink," Mark said gently, talking softly so he wouldn't make her headache worse. He helped her sit up and pressed the coffee mug into her hands. "It helps."

Trai took a few swallows and then said, "I'm really sorry about last night. Angie's one of the only people I know who's ever seen me drunk." She'd been vomiting most of the night, and Mark had been too worried about her to sleep, instead taking care of her the whole night.

Mark smoothed her hair. "You know I don't mind."

"You shouldn't have to take care of me. I can take care of myself, or at least I should be able to."

"Trai." Mark put his hands on her shoulders. "You're going to have to let me help you sometimes. I'm here for you. I love you. I can't see you like that and not want to help."

Trai sighed. "I got used to not asking for help. It's taking me a bit to adjust."

"You want an aspirin or something?"

"No, I can live with it. I wrote an entire paper once with a hangover worse than this one. My boyfriend Ethan decided it would be so much fun to introduce me to tequila for my 21st birthday. We broke up shortly afterwards."

"Roger's present to me was very similar, except it involved straight vodka. Lots and lots of straight vodka."

Trai smiled, a little weakly. "I really shouldn't have drank so much last night. I have a really bad habit of doing too many shots when I'm stressed."

Mark pulled her close, and she laid her head in his lap. "What's bothering you?" he asked gently.

Trai looked away. "I still have nightmares every couple of nights. And today—it's been two months since we lost Danny."

Mark lay down next to her and wrapped his arms around her. "You know I'm here if you need me, right?"

"I know," Trai said softly. "And I appreciate that. It really makes it easier."

"I'm glad," Mark said, kissing her forehead. "You feeling a little better?"

"Tiny bit. The headache's getting better."

"How did you and Angie get home, anyway?"

"Cab. She wants to meet you, by the way. Maybe this weekend?"

"Sure," Mark nodded. "Yeah, that'll work."

"Also, I—um—I wanted to go to the Island to see Danny's grave… and maybe my family… would you…?"

"I'd love to come," Mark said gently. "Like I said, I'm here for you."

Trai cuddled against him, needing comfort, and Mark kissed the top of her head. "They'll love you," she said quietly. "My mom and dad. And Micah… if he threatens you, it's because he's overprotective… it's his way of welcoming you into the family, perverse as it is. And I'm pretty sure you already have Angie's approval." She looked up at Mark, and her voice trembled as she whispered, "You were the last thing he and I talked about. He said he—he wanted to see me happy."

"Are you?" Mark asked gently.

"Very," Trai whispered.

Mark held her, and she took comfort in the fact that he was there for her. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," Mark whispered back, smoothing her hair. "You're so special to me. I just want you to be happy."

"You've helped so much," Trai told him. "I—I don't like to talk, but with you… it's been getting easier."

"I'm glad."

They lay there for a while in silence, until Mark asked gently, "You want me to make you breakfast?"

"I think I can eat now, yeah. But if it's too much…"

"Shh. No." Mark kissed her forehead. "I'll be in the kitchen."

Trai got up and pulled on her old Dartmouth shirt, twisting her hair into a bun and yawning, going into the bathroom to brush her teeth and shower. She felt considerably better when she emerged, the smell of French toast filling the loft.

Mark glanced up as she entered the kitchen and sat down, setting a plate on the table for her. "You look good in that shirt."

Trai smiled. "Thanks. I've had it for ages. I got it on one of my first days at Dartmouth—it was really weird. I'd gone from being a high school student to an Ivy League student… I had to mark it somehow. It was just a strange feeling." She cut a piece of the French toast and remarked, "This is really good."

"Thanks." Mark smiled and made a plate for himself, sitting down across from her. "Did you like Dartmouth?"

Trai nodded. "I did. Very much. The only thing I really didn't like about it was how prestigious it was. I mean, sure, it's nice to say you were in an Ivy League college. But then you realize, 'I have a BA in English, and where is that going to take me?'"

Mark nodded. "I went to Brown. I hated it there, and I didn't need a degree for filmmaking, so I dropped out halfway through my junior year."

Trai sighed. "Sometimes I wish things had turned out differently. Like, maybe if I'd had a different major, I wouldn't have been bartending. I wouldn't have met Jason."

Mark put his hand over hers and squeezed. "If you had a different major, you wouldn't have met me," he reminded her gently. "You wouldn't have been in the park that day doing research."

Trai nodded. "You're right on that. It's… weird. Sometimes. To think of what could have happened."

"Or what could happen."

"Yeah," Trai agreed. She looked over at him and asked innocently, "You think we'll make it?"

"I think we will."

* * *

"Smile at the camera." 

"Ugh. My hair's a mess, Mark; you really don't want to film this."

"Oh, yes, I do. Now, what do you say to dropping that towel?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cohen, but I refuse to do full-frontal nudity."

"Pity."

"You know, if this were a movie set, that would be considered sexual harassment."

"Do _you_ consider it sexual harassment?"

"No," Trai smiled and stepped closer to him. Mark didn't care that she was wet—she'd just gotten out of the shower a few minutes before. They were meeting Angie in about two hours; Mark was fooling around with the camera, filming her because he could. Technically, it _was_ helping his documentary—he'd wanted to film the way art affected his friends; this was art for both Trai and Mark. They gave each other inspiration.

Trai wrapped her arms around his neck, and he kissed her softly, his free hand working its way under the towel she had wrapped around her.

"You better turn off that camera," she murmured against his lips.

"Are you wearing lip gloss?" Mark asked, completely ignoring her request.

"Yes. Is this a problem?"

"No, I like it," Mark murmured as he parted her lips with his tongue.

"Mark, I'm serious about turning off that camera."

"It's not like we're making pornography."

"If this escalates we will be," Trai murmured, an impressive feat due to their current liplock. "At least destroy the film."

"Who will even find it?"

"I don't know. Future kids. _'Hey, Mommy, Daddy, what's this?' 'Mark, why don't _you _explain that one?'_"

Mark snorted with laughter. "Yeah, that'll happen. _'You see, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much…'_"

"Yeah, well, right now it's more like _'when a daddy won't oblige to mommy's request to turn off the damn camera.'_"

Mark chuckled and finally turned off the camera. "Satisfied?"

"Yes. Thank you. And now I need to change."

"So _now_ can I see some full frontal nudity?"

Trai smirked. "As you wish."

* * *

Trai led Mark to a small Italian restaurant a few blocks from the loft that she and Angie had decided to meet in. The staff knew Trai well; she'd been coming there since moving to the City after Dartmouth. 

"Tracy!" Renzo, the owner, announced in his booming voice as she came through the door. _"Tu sembri bella, cara." _He took her hands in his and kissed her cheeks.

_"Grazie,"_ Trai told him with a smile. Mark watched the exchange with amazement. Trai motioned to Mark and announced, _"Renzo, si incontra Mark. Lui è il mio ragazzo." _She coughed and switched to English. "Mark, meet Renzo. He's the head chef here; a good friend of my father's."

_"__Piacere conoscerti,"_ Renzo said with a smile, shaking Mark's proffered hand.

Trai smiled a little and told Renzo something that Mark assumed was that they were there to have dinner with Angie. Renzo nodded and led them to a quiet table in the corner, handing them menus and giving them a smile before they left.

Mark looked at Trai with surprise. "You speak Italian?"

Trai nodded. "Mm-hmm. My dad's Italian—well, you can tell from the last name. I learned as a kid. I don't speak it as much anymore now, but I remember enough to make conversation. Renzo's English isn't that great so we speak Italian when I meet him."

"That was just… unexpected," Mark laughed. "But very sexy, I must say."

Trai smirked. "Then I'll speak it more often."

They sat with the menu for a few minutes, discussing what was good, and were still deciding when Angie arrived, her red hair pulled up into a ponytail, wearing a pair of reading glasses. "Sorry, love; I had the plumber over to fix my garbage disposal and Christ, does that man not know when a woman's not interested." She leaned down and kissed Trai's cheek.

Trai smiled and hugged her, then nodded to Mark. "Mark, this is Angie Jamison, my best friend. Angie, meet Mark Cohen, my boyfriend."

Angie shook Mark's hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Same here. Trai speaks of you often."

"Really now," Angie laughed as she sat down across from Trai. "And what do you tell him?"

"That you're my stubborn-as-an-ass best friend, but I have to love you anyway," Trai teased.

As it turned out, Mark and Angie hit it off very well. To Trai's mocking dismay, some embarrassing college stories came up in conversation, including the "what did we do last night?" incident of '85, when Trai and Angie had both woken up on the same couch after a night of drinking, with Trai missing her bra—later discovered to be a joke played on her by Ethan, whom she'd proceeded to knee a few times in a certain uncomfortable area.

Watching Trai and Mark, however, Angie had a hard time not remembering her and Danny's first date.

* * *

_"Angela?"_

_Angie turned, motioning for Trai to go ahead; she'd catch up later. She shoved her hands in her pockets and smiled at her best friend's brother, whom she'd just met that day. "Call me Angie. Please. What's up?"_

_"Angie… um… I know this is… well, weird, but… would you maybe want to go get a cup of coffee or something?"_

_Angie was taken aback. Danny was attractive, yeah, and she really did like him. But _he_ was interested in _her_? This was Trai's big brother. This was a star quarterback, a ridiculously handsome junior from Harvard._

_And he was attracted to the bisexual struggling theater major, who'd just broken up with her girlfriend._

_Angie ran her hand through her long red hair, a nervous habit. "Sure," she said with a smile. "I'd love to."_

_They found that they had a lot in common—tastes in music, literature, TV shows. And at the end of the night Danny surprised her._

_He shifted awkwardly and managed, "If I kissed you, would that be too weird?"_

_Angie shook her head. "Not at all," she said softly._

_They kissed._

_In that single moment, Angie realized what had been missing from her relationships before—Norah, her other girlfriends and boyfriends. She'd never felt anything like this._

* * *

Two days after meeting Angie, Mark and Trai took the train to Babylon. On the way there, Trai tried distracting herself with a book, while Mark just watched her. He put his hand gently over hers and squeezed. "It'll be okay, baby." 

Trai breathed out and rested her head on his shoulder. "I miss him so badly," she whispered. "Mark, it's supposed to get easier and it hasn't been…"

"I know," Mark whispered soothingly. "Shh… I know…"

The rest of the train ride passed in silence. They took a cab from the station to Bay Shore, where Trai's parents, Micah, and his fiancée Erica were waiting to have lunch with them.

Mark held Trai's hand as they went up the front steps. The neighborhood was small, typical of suburbia. Trai knocked quietly; her mom answered almost immediately.

"Trai," she said softly, opening the door and pulling Trai into a big hug. Trai hugged her mother back, fighting tears—she hadn't been home or seen her parents since the funeral. "Hi, Mom," she managed.

Mrs. Buscemi pulled away and said gently, "You need to eat more, honey," before turning to Mark. "You must be Mark."

Mark gave a small smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Buscemi."

"The same. C'mon in."

Micah and Erica were sitting in the living room. "Mark, this is Micah Sellers, and his fiancée, Erica Langdon."

Micah and Mark shook hands while Trai hugged Erica and questioned her softly about her well being and the wedding plans—Trai was to be the maid of honor; unfortunately Danny would have been the best man.

"Mom? Where's Dad?"

"He's in the kitchen, sweetie. Mark, sit, if you'd like."

Mark took a seat by Micah. Trai disappeared into the kitchen.

The smell of her father's cooking brought back memories for Trai, many of them associated with Danny. She found her father cooking a variety of things while reading the _New York Times_ at the table. Scott Buscemi was a retired history teacher, whose passion was cooking. He tried to look out for his children, but that hadn't worked for Danny. Trai was all he had left.

"Daddy?" Trai whispered, her voice strained, her eyes threatening to let tears spill free.

Scott stood immediately. "Oh… honey…"

"Daddy, can I sit?"

"Sure, sure, sweetheart." Scott waved his daughter into a chair. "Is something bothering you?"

"It's been two months since we lost Danny," Trai whispered. "I just… I really miss him…"

"I know, honey. I know. You mom and I… we haven't even been in his room."

"Angie gave me some of his stuff. Did you… have you… talked to her?"

"She told us everything," Scott nodded. "And we told her that no matter what, we will always consider her part of this family."

Trai breathed in shakily. "Would you mind if I went into his room? There's… there's a couple pictures I want…"

"Take whatever you need," Scott said gently, laying his hand over Trai's, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Thanks, Daddy," Trai whispered, her voice cracking.

Scott kissed his daughter's forehead. "No problem, princess," he said gently. "No problem at all."

* * *

As it turned out, Trai's family wasn't all that bad. Erica was really nice, and she kept the conversation going while Trai was with her father. Micah, however, cornered him before dinner. 

"Okay," he said to him, making sure no one was around. "I'm going to say this once, and once only."

"Okay," Mark said nervously.

"I can tell you really care about her. But get this straight—you hurt her; I'll hurt you. Get it?"

"Got it," Mark said, nodding quickly.

Micah nodded. "Good. And with that out of the way, thanks for making her happy."

* * *

Trai knelt down by Danny's grave, setting down the roses she'd brought with her. 

**DANIEL ANTHONY BUSCEMI  
****BROTHER, SON, FRIEND  
****OCT 28, 1964—JAN 1, 1992**

Mark put his arm around her shoulders, kneeling next to her. Trai ran her fingers over the engraving on the plaque. "Goddammit, Jem," she sighed. "I miss you."

Mark could tell she was trying not to cry. "It's okay," he soothed, pulling her close. "Let it out."

Trai buried her face in his chest. "I'm sorry," she whispered shakily.

"For what? Trai, I'm here for you. You can cry. It's perfectly okay to cry."

They sat there for about ten minutes, Mark holding Trai close, stroking her hair. Finally, when she pulled away, Mark whispered, "You gonna be okay?"

Trai nodded. "I should be," she whispered. "Thanks."

Mark helped her up and walked her out of the cemetery, keeping her close.

* * *

**A/N- Hello lovelies! I had a really good day on Saturday and somehow churned this one out quickly XD**

"**The Sweetest Goodbye" is a song by Maroon 5.**

**Anyone who catches the "as you wish" reference, kudos to you :)**

**For anyone who doesn't read Italian, Renzo tells Trai she looks beautiful. Trai thanks him and then introduces him to Mark, who Renzo says he's pleased to meet.**

**Tina101- I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. All I will say is, something will happen in the last six chapters or so that will be a definite roadblock.**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Thanks so much!! And no problem, I had a lot of fun reading it :)**

**Scififreakmi- I wish that too, haha. I think that Mark has probably set the standard for future boyfriends –wink-**

**Diva Actress- Enough wink winking for you this chapter? Hehe, more to come… especially in Chapter Twelve… and… goddammit, let's just say that there's going to be more sex. A lot more.**

**ForLoveOrMoney- Thanks!!**

**BroadwayBabe32- The way I look at it, Mark is damn sexy already without the scarf, lol.**

**I Always Get It For Free x3- That line was one of my very few comedic achievements.**

**Mimimarquezc94- Thanks!!**

**Angel718- Hopefully the update came fast enough XD**

**Readerfreak10- Thank you, reviewer I've never heard from :)**

**Have a lovely week!!**

**- Sally**


	11. When You Were Young

Chapter Eleven  
When You Were Young

_"C'mon, Rog," April purred, running her fingers up his arm as she straddled him. Roger couldn't help but notice the track marks on hers, most of them fresh._

_"Don't you want it?" April whispered into his ear._

_Roger pushed her away. "You're high, aren't you," he said, flatly._

_"What does it matter? I keep telling you to try it."_

_"Goddammit, April, don't you__**—**__"_

_"Try it," April murmured, waving the needle in his face. "Just try it."_

* * *

"I feel kind of weird being here," Trai murmured, pulling her tank top down a little further. "Do me a favor, keep doing the boyfriend thing."

"No problem," Mark told her, keeping his arm around her waist and following Roger through the throng of people in the Catscratch. "Though I either come off as your boyfriend or your pimp."

"Just stay close," Trai told him. "I really don't like people in this place staring."

It was March 13th. Mimi's last night as a dancer at the Catscratch—she'd be waitressing for the next two months or so.

She'd told Roger the night before that some of the guys in the crowd were starting to make her uncomfortable—that she was afraid one of them would try something. Roger had immediately told her he was coming to watch the show. He wanted to try and make sure nothing happened. Trai and Mark were there to make sure he didn't kill anyone.

The atmosphere of the place had Roger a little jumpy. Even CBGB's made him the same way. The smoke, the smell of the alcohol, knowing that there were drugs around. He wasn't a junkie anymore, but his body occasionally wanted a hit.

Trai and Mark could recognize this as they sat at a table close to the stage. Trai put her hand on his leg, which was bouncing nervously. "You don't need it," she told him softly. "You don't need it anymore."

Roger gave her a weak smile. "Thanks."

"This is weirding me out a little," Trai admitted to Mark and Roger. "Is that just me?"

Roger shook his head. "It takes some getting used to."

Trai had never been to a club like this before, had never thought she would have to go to one. She'd gone to a few clubs before—her boyfriend in college, Ethan, had been a rocker like Roger, and she'd met him at a concert when she'd, very shyly, asked if she could interview him for _The Dartmouth_. He'd agreed, and had ended up asking her to dinner off-the-record.

"It doesn't bother you at all?" Trai asked Roger.

"It does. A little. Days like this, knowing she could get hurt, I almost want her to quit. But I can't do that—she loves to dance."

Trai nodded, shrugged. "I had a friend who sang at a cabaret in college. I went to see him a couple times. He _was _really good—and I'll admit he looked damn good in stilettos. Nice legs. Anyway. He told me once that it wasn't the most glamorous, but it paid. I feel the same way about my work. Not many kids from the educational background I have think, 'Hey, I should write erotica.'"

Roger laughed, and smiled at her gratefully, knowing that she was talking to keep his mind off the real reason they were there.

Mimi took the stage in twenty minutes. Roger and Mark had watched her dance before, but even with her experiences at the cabaret in college, Trai had never seen anything like she was seeing now. Just the sexuality of it was enough to make her wonder, again, how Roger was comfortable with his wife working at an S&M club.

Mimi, meanwhile, was just trying to focus on finishing her set and getting out. She'd grown less comfortable with the dancing since finding out she was pregnant, which was why she'd be waitressing at the Club for the next month or two instead. She hadn't even been legal when she'd stated working at the Club seven years before, in 1985. She'd only been fifteen years old, but she'd run away from home after dropping out of school, and she'd desperately needed a job.

She'd acted older, but Jessie, the owner of the Club, had seen straight through. Despite that, Jessie couldn't deny that Mimi could dance. Shortly after getting the job, Mimi had met Angel in Central, when he'd scared off the skinheads giving her a hard time. When she admitted to having nowhere to go, Angel had immediately taken her in.

Mimi finished the dance and left the stage, going into the changing room and getting out of her uniform, glad that she likely wouldn't be gracing the stage again in more than a year.

She'd asked Roger, Mark, and Trai to meet her outside the dressing room. She was glad, at least, that they'd been there.

Still, the person who met her in the hallway wasn't Roger. It was one of the drunks who'd been eyeing her the past few nights.

Mimi tried to walk past him, but the drunk caught her wrist. "Don't walk away from me," he slurred, pushing her against the wall. Mimi tried to extricate herself from his hold, but he was too big for her. "C'mon, baby, don't you want it?"

"Get off of me!" Mimi struggled against him as his hand made its way up her skirt and fingered her panties. "Get _away_ from me!"

Everything happened in what seemed like a split second. Roger tackling the guy, knocking him to the ground, the crunch of bone snapping as Roger's punch broke the guy's nose. Trai steadying Mimi, pulling her into her arms as she shook and almost started to cry. Mark running to get Jessie.

Trai held Mimi close. "Shh," she whispered. "Shh, shh, it's okay, Meems… he won't be able to touch you."

Mimi tried hard not to cry, the hot tears stinging behind her eyes, shut tightly. She was trembling, almost hyperventilating. Trai just held Mimi close, knowing the feeling all too well, knowing her comforts would be in vain.

Roger made sure that the guy was knocked out just before Mark came back with Jessie. Trai said quietly to Roger, "Would you mind if I took her home? I… I know how to deal with this…"

Roger shook his head. "Take care of her? Please?"

Trai nodded, giving Roger's shoulder a squeeze before she put her arm around Mimi and led her home.

When they got up to the loft, all Mimi wanted to do was shower. She was still shaken up, so Trai gently asked if she needed help. Mimi wordlessly nodded, and Trai helped her undress, stepping into the shower with her and helping her clean up, though fully clothed herself. Though Mim hadn't been raped outright, Trai still knew the fear, the desire above all else to be clean. She remembered, so many nights, washing her skin raw because she felt like Jason's smell was still on her.

Mimi wrapped herself in a towel and sank to the floor of the bathroom. Her ponytail and clothes sopping wet, Trai sat down across from her. "I know enough not to ask if you're okay."

Mimi breathed out shakily. "Why does this freak me out so much? He didn't even _do_ anything…"

"Meems." Trai softly took Mimi's hands in hers. "Honey, that doesn't matter. He _tried_ to attack you. It's normal to be afraid."

"How was it for you?" Mimi asked quietly.

Trai swallowed hard before she admitted, "I can't even… I can't even put it into words. He violated me in every way possible. But I can tell you… that even though you feel afraid… it goes away. Don't let it stop you, honey."

"I… I guess I was afraid because… because if he raped me I could've lost the baby… and if I did, I didn't… I can't… I don't want to think about how long it might take before Roger and I get that chance again."

Trai nodded. "I can understand that. And I can tell you now—if you need to talk, come to me."

"Thanks, Trai," Mimi whispered, giving her a tight hug.

"No problem," Trai said softly, hugging her back. "No problem."

* * *

_"Nooooo!"_

_The howl of pain and rage came from the bathroom as Mark stumbled into the loft, weighed down by multiple grocery bags. The filmmaker's glasses were just visible above a stalk of celery._

_A shock of light blond hair obscuring his vision along with the damned celery, Mark tried to deduce the source of Roger's shout._

_"Mark!" came the choked cry. "Mark, it's April!"_

_Immediately, Mark dropped the groceries and ran into the bathroom, not caring as bottles and cans shattered and crashed behind him._

_Roger was sobbing on the bathroom floor, holding April's limp body in his arms. Mark saw the cuts on her wrists and immediately knew that April was dead._

_"The note," Roger choked. "Read—read the note!"_

_Confused, Mark picked up the note lying on the floor next to Roger. There, in April's assured, confident block letters, were the three simple words that would irrevocably alter both Mark's and Roger's lives:_

**WE'VE GOT AIDS**

* * *

Roger and Mark got home about half an hour after the girls did. Roger was a little shaken as well, still angry that the guy had even gotten his hands on Mimi. He was angry with himself too—how had he let that happen?

Mark knew how much Roger was beating himself up over this. "Rog, you didn't know. You couldn't have known he was back there."

"Mark, don't you get it?" Roger was pacing the living room of Mark and Trai's loft. "I'm her husband. I'm supposed to protect her and I didn't. I'm supposed to stop this shit from happening to her!"

"You said that about April," Mark reminded him quietly.

"Shut up. Shut _up_," Roger whirled on him angrily. "Do _not_ bring her up."

"You told me you'd get her off smack. You told me, and you came home the next night high," Mark reminded him. He knew it was harsh, but it was the only way to get through to Roger. "You said you'd protect April, and it didn't work. You can't constantly be watching her, Roger. You can't always know everything. There will be times you aren't there, because you didn't know you had to be—like tonight."

Mark could tell Roger was getting anxious again, noticed it in the same tics and twitches he'd learned to look for when Roger had still been addicted to smack. He knew Roger hadn't wanted a hit this badly since the months where Mimi had been missing—though they'd broken his addiction a year before, Mark had had to physically restrain Roger from leaving the loft some nights.

"You don't need it," Mark said, echoing Trai's words from earlier, trying not to think of how many times they'd been through this.

Roger's pacing was restless, like a caged animal's. "I could take that guy down. I could fucking kill him with my bare hands."

"Rog, don't talk like that." He remembered how violent Roger had been during withdrawal. He remembered the bruises and black eyes he'd gotten.

"Wouldn't you want to?" Roger demanded. "If someone did that to Trai?"

"Someone already _has_ done that to Trai, and Goddammit, Rog, stop talking like that! You're not a fucking junkie anymore! You don't need the smack! You turned your head for two seconds and something almost happened to Mimi! _Almost!_ Just calm down!"

Roger slowly realized how much he had to be freaking Mark out. He'd never had the urge for a hit this bad.

Slowly, he sank down on the couch. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Mark sat down next to him. "I know."

* * *

_"Rog, you have to. If not for yourself, then for me! You're not helping the fact that you have AIDS by doing drugs! It's why you have it in the first place!"_

_"Shut up!" Roger yelled, angry, hurt._

_"No! I'm not going to give this up! Dammit, Roger! I let this go on with you and April for too long! I should've stopped you the first time you came home high! April wasn't good for you, Rog," Mark persisted. "She shouldn't have done this to you. Shouldn't have infected you and left you to die. And you shouldn't be doing this to yourself."_

_"You can't tell me what I should do," Roger said, angrily, his voice low._

_"I can when it can save your goddamned life!"_

_"I don't need saving!"_

_"That's exactly what April said, and look where she is now!"_

_Mark didn't have time to register anything more than hitting the floor and a blinding pain before he realized Roger was on top of him, punching, clawing, flailing._

_Bringing up April may have been low, but it sure as hell motivated Roger._

_"Rog, stop it!" Mark yelled. "Hurting me isn't going to bring her back! Hurting me is not going to keep you from dying!"_

_Defeated, Roger sank back, lying on the floor of the loft, sobbing quietly._

_"I gotta stop," he said numbly. "Every time I… every time I do drugs I think of her… maybe if I'd gotten her to stop. If I had listened to you instead of denying that I had a problem…"_

_"We can get help," Mark assured him. "Rehab…?"_

_"I should do this on my own."_

_And so it had started. Roger had attempted to get off the drugs himself, and had finally admitted to Mark that he needed help. The two of them had worked at it together, gradually, for half a year, until Roger had finally come clean._

_The two friends stood over April's grave a week after Roger had finally gotten out of his addiction, reading the headstone._

_Roger gently placed the half-dozen roses he held into the vase on her grave._

_"You did this to me," he said quietly, almost inaudibly. "You made me fall for you, you got me addicted, you infected me… Goddamnit, you _infected_ me…"_

_Roger was crying. Roger, the stoic one, the one who rarely showed emotion beyond his music._

* * *

Roger was climbing down to his and Mimi's loft via the fire escape while Trai was climbing up. Trai stopped and sat beside him when Roger sat down on the landing between the floors. "She's okay," she told him softly. "Just give her some space."

Roger sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. "I know everyone's telling me I can't always protect her… but Goddammit, Trai, I can't go through another night like Christmas Eve…"

"Christmas Eve?" Trai questioned softly.

Roger glanced at her. "Mark never…?"

Trai shook her head. "He rarely mentions before he met me."

"I won't go into it. It's a bad subject for all of us."

Trai put a hand on Roger's shoulder. "You and Meems will be okay," she softly assured him.

Roger breathed out slowly. "You think she'll talk to me?"

"Yeah. She needs you. Come up to the loft if you need me, okay?"

"Okay. Trai… thanks. For everything."

"Like I said, not a problem." She hugged him for a second. "Go talk to Mimi."

* * *

Trai climbed through the window and sank down on the couch next to Mark. She lay down with her head in his lap, feeling a little better now that she was with him.

"You okay?" Mark asked her gently.

Trai nodded. "For the most part. Suddenly the go-to girl for rape and abuse, but okay."

Mark squeezed her shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

Trai looked up at him. "Mark, what haven't you told me about the last couple years before you met me?"

Mark sighed. "It's a hard story to tell. After you told me yours, I didn't want to upset you."

Trai sat up a bit and kissed him. "Please tell me," she said softly.

So, for the next two hours, Mark told Trai everything, starting with when he'd moved to the City and ending with Christmas Eve of 1990. It was a story he hadn't told in a long time, because he'd never had the need to tell anyone, and it was hard to get through some parts without tears. But Trai listened, occasionally offering comfort or sympathy, and finally said gently, "I'm glad that you told me."

Mark gave her a weak smile. It had felt good to talk.

"I'm glad I did too."

The phone rang, and Mark glanced at the clock. It was about ten o'clock at night. He wondered who'd be calling, but picked up anyway. "Hello?"

"Mark! Hi. It's Mom."

Oh, dear God. His mother. He hadn't heard from his mother in a few weeks. He'd made absolutely sure to eliminate every trace of her calls from the answering machine. Mark did not want his mother to freak Trai out.

"Hi, Mom," he said into the phone. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Same. It's kinda late for you to be calling, Mom; everything all right?"

"Everything's fine. I just wanted to ask if you were coming home for Passover in a few weeks."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Sure. I can come."

Sitting next to him, able to hear the conversation, Trai blanched. Sure, she wanted to meet his family, but in a week or two?

"Anyone special you'd like to bring?" Jane Cohen pressed.

Mark smiled, completely oblivious to Trai's reaction. "Actually, yeah. Yeah, there is..."

* * *

**A/N- Hello, my darlings!**

"**When You Were Young" is a song by the Killers and it's freaking amazing.**

**Tina101- Congratulations on being the only one to catch where "as you wish" is from, LOL. The Princess Bride is my favorite movie :)**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Thank you! And I'm not giving anything away, but there is most DEFINITELY going to be some Trai/Mark action next chapter…**

**MidnightPopcorn- Thanks! Never heard from you so this makes me happy :)**

**Diva Actress- Yep, slid that in as an Avenue Q reference!**

**ForLoveOrMoney- I'm glad you liked the part with Renzo; took me long enough to work out how to say everything correctly!**

**I Always Get It For Free x3- Oh, you can dream. I'm right there with you, lol. Although I just saw the amazing Kyle Post on Broadway as Mark… if I could put Kyle and Anthony in an atom smasher, create the perfect man, and dip said perfect man in chocolate… I totally would. –wink-**

**Mimimarquezc94- Thanks!!**

**Angel718- Thank you!!**

**Readerfreak10- Thanks!!**

**Next chapter should be soon! Have fun, lovelies!**

**- Sally**


	12. Good Enough

Chapter Twelve  
Good Enough

Trai wrapped her hand around Mark's as she sat anxiously in the backseat of the cab with him two weeks later, in April. Watching her smooth nonexistent wrinkles from her skirt and redo her hair repeatedly, Mark picked up on her mood. "Nervous?" he asked softly.

"I wish you'd at least asked me," Trai said quietly, twirling her hair around her finger. "It freaks me out. What if they disapprove?"

"There's nothing to disapprove of," Mark said softly, squeezing her hand. "You're so amazing. They'll love you—I'm sure of it."

"Are you sure?" Trai asked anxiously.

"Trai, I'm telling you, don't worry about it. It's nothing big. Nothing formal. It's just a Seder. You've done this a million times."

"With my own family, in my own house, with relatives who are stuck with me and have to like me."

Mark kissed her fingers. She'd put on nail polish and everything, had tried so hard to make herself look perfect, even though Mark had assured her that she looked beautiful already, not to worry about how she looked. "It'll be _fine._"

When the cab pulled up to the address, Mark gave the driver the money and he and Trai got out, shouldering their bags—Mark's mom had asked her son to stay over; she'd been more than happy to allow Mark to bring Trai.

They walked up to the front porch, Trai keeping a death grip on his hand. He kissed her cheek to calm her, then knocked on the door.

Cindy was the one who answered. "Mark!" she gave a wide smile and hugged her brother. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Mark smiled. "Really good." He squeezed Trai's hand. "Cindy, this is Trai, my girlfriend. Trai, this is my sister Cindy."

"Pleasure to meet you," Trai said quietly, nervously, pulling her hand from Mark's and offering it to Cindy.

Cindy smiled. "Pleasure's all mine. C'mon in. Mom told me you guys can put your stuff in Mark's old room; the family's around the house."

Trai breathed out a slow breath as they climbed up the stairs to Mark's room. "Everything okay?" Mark asked softly. "Wasn't so bad," Trai said with a slow nod.

Mark smiled and pushed the door open to his old room. Trai had to give a small smile at all the nerdy paraphernalia scattered around.

"No comments," Mark joked as they set down their bags. He noticed there wasn't any dust; doubtless his mom still cleaned even though Mark had left home years before.

"A stuffed Yoda… creepy but cute… hey, look! C-3PO!"

"Oh, like your room at home is much better? 'A copy of _Beowulf_ that's older than I am!' And you weren't kidding about liking Mr. Darcy, either. Was that a love poem to him I read in your notebook?"

Trai laughed, at ease for the first time since they'd left the City. "Please don't tell me that's a picture of Steven Spielberg."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Um, maybe because it's framed on your dresser…"

Her calm demeanor slipped away, however, as they entered the kitchen to greet his mother and father. Trai stood in the doorway, trying not to fidget.

"Hey, son." Samuel Cohen greeted his son warmly, giving him a long hug. Jane Cohen deserted her matzo balls long enough to hug Mark and motion for Trai to move closer. "Mark, who's this?" she asked with a smile.

Mark wrapped his arm around Trai's waist and pulled her close. "Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet Tracy Buscemi, my girlfriend." Trai blushed a little. "Please, call me Trai. No one's called me Tracy since high school."

Jane smiled. "So nice to meet you. Mark speaks very highly of you."

Trai blushed deeper and smiled. "I'm glad. He's been wonderful to me."

"Why don't you go introduce Trai to Greg and the kids, Mark?" Jane asked, referring to Cindy's husband and children. "We'll have plenty of time to talk during dinner…"

* * *

"Wherefore is this night—dis—disti—distinguished?" Jake Cohen looked up at Cindy for confirmation, who nodded. Jake continued, "… distinguished from all other nights?"

Mark smiled. Jake, who was five years old, had finally taken over the Four Questions now that he could read. Having been through many, many years of the Four Questions himself, he knew that it was exciting for Jake. Trai, herself, had been stuck with the Four Questions until she'd turned nineteen, when her cousin Randy had finally been able to take over.

The family had settled down for the Seder. In addition to Cindy and her family, some of Mark's aunts and uncles were there, in addition to his grandmother, Cleo. Mark's reception had been a warm one, and the family had been excited to see him with Trai. Though she'd lightened up a bit, Trai was still slightly nervous—she could tell the family was watching her. At the moment she and Mark were sitting directly across from Jane, while Samuel was sitting at the head of the table, also right near them. Trai had a feeling that this was not a coincidence.

When they'd finished the reading and everyone was comfortable, the food began to be served. Jane dished out the soup first, and as they were eating Trai looked up. "This is really good, Mrs. Cohen."

Jane smiled. "Thank you. How long have you and Mark been dating? He," she added with a look at her son, "neglected to mention you."

Trai didn't take offense; she knew Mark probably hadn't wanted to freak her out. "Four months. Since January."

Jane nodded, looked at Mark. "I knew you weren't gay."

"Mom!"

"Well, after Maureen you never had anyone," Jane pointed out. "I was starting to wonder."

"We all were," Cleo added from her seat nearby. Mark's ears reddened. Trai smiled and twined her fingers with Mark's under the table.

"So what do you do for a living, Trai?" Jane asked.

"I write," Trai explained. "Um… romances."

"Mom, you've read her book," Mark added.

Jane thought for a second. "That's right, I have. It was very good," she said with a smile, and Trai blushed at the praise. "Have you written anything else recently?"

Trai nodded. "Mark helped me with this one. I just sent it off a week ago; it should be out by the fall."

"Are you Jewish, by any chance?" Samuel asked. "You knew a lot about the Seder."

"My father's Jewish," Trai explained. "My mother's Catholic. I was exposed more to Judaism as a kid… I don't really practice much myself."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"I did. My brother Danny. He, um… passed away three months ago," she said. Mark squeezed her hand.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jane said sympathetically. "What of?"

"HIV," Trai said quietly. Jane bit her lip, never having been comfortable with the subject, or with Mark's involvement with people who had it.

"Where did you go to college?" Cleo asked. Mark wanted to tell his family that this wasn't the Inquisition, but he knew they wouldn't be silenced.

"Dartmouth, in New Hampshire. I have a degree in English."

"See?" Jane Cohen glanced at her son. "She has a degree." Jane had never been supportive of Mark's dropping out of Brown in his junior year.

"Mom, I didn't need a degree to film," Mark said defensively.

"My degree doesn't help too much, either," Trai offered. "I can't do much with it."

"Still, you have one," Jane remarked.

"Any plans for the future with this young lady?" Cleo asked Mark.

Mark coughed and glanced at Trai. "Well, I hadn't… we haven't really discussed it…"

"They've only been dating four months, Mom," Jane laughed. "Give them a break."

"You _should _get married sometime," Cleo continued without hearing.

"We're kind of far from that right now, Grandma," Mark said kindly. Trai nodded in agreement.

Samuel had been silent for a while. Sometime during the desert Jane noticed this and invited him to help her clear the table and wash dishes, while Trai followed Jacob into the basement to play around—Jacob liked her, which was rare since he usually didn't like other adults—and Mark chatted with Greg.

Jane made sure the water was running so that no one nearby could hear them and then said to Samuel, "Sam, he doesn't bring home girls often. You know he loves her if he does."

"A romance writer, Jane?" Samuel asked her. "First a lesbian performance artist, and now a _romance writer_? If this one upped and left him for a woman, too, I wouldn't be surprised!"

"She really is very talented, Sam."

"Because it takes so much talent to write about two people fucking each other."

"Watch your language," Jane admonished. She cleaned another dish before she remarked, "Mark's smitten with her, Samuel. She loves him too. Just try to be happy for him."

"She's not good enough for him. She's not good enough for this family."

"How is she not good enough? Tracy's educated. She's published—do you know how rare that is? They love each other."

"It's not enough. It's not and it won't be. I'm not accepting her, Jane. She's not becoming a part of this family."

Jane sighed and shut off the water. "We won't discuss this anymore. But I suggest you start to like her, and fast."

* * *

"Trai? Trai…?"

Mark pushed open the door to his old room later that evening. Trai was inside, as he'd suspected. Still, she didn't look that great. She was sitting on his bed, her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. She'd kicked off her shoes, and her feet looked blistered.

"Trai, I—I'm really…"

"Don't," Trai whispered tearfully. "Just don't."

Mark shut the door and slowly sat down beside her. "What's wrong?"

"I fucked up," Trai whispered. "You can stop pretending they like me."

"No," Mark whispered, putting his arm around her. "No, baby… they like you…"

"Your sister and Greg? I heard them talking. They don't think I'm good for you."

"Trai…" Mark tried to console her, but he didn't know what to say.

"Did you even see the looks they gave me?" Trai demanded, looking up at him, her face streaked with tears. "They don't think I'm good enough for you, Mark." She glanced away and whispered, "Maybe we should break up."

Mark's breath caught in his chest. "No," he whispered, pulling her closer. "No, no… Trai, look at me…" He held her face in his hands gently. "I would never, ever choose my family over you," he whispered. "I love you too damn much to let you go. You will always be everything to me and my family can't change that."

Trai looked away. "I don't want to be the reason your family hates you, Mark. I can't do that. I can't. I'm sorry."

"My mom likes you," Mark reminded her softly. "Her and my grandma Cleo. Trai, the rest of them don't matter. I've never been close to Cindy or my father. All that matters is you," Mark whispered. "Please, Trai… please don't get upset…"

Trai gave a shuddery sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. Mark tilted her face to his and kissed her. Trai hesitated at first, but kissed him back after a second. Slowly, Mark gently laid her back onto the bed, straddling her and unbuttoning her blouse. He tossed it onto her suitcase and broke their kiss for a second as she pulled his shirt over his head. He helped her get off her skirt as she worked off his jeans, but she suddenly stopped as she felt Mark's growing arousal against her thigh. "M—Mark…"

"What?" Mark murmured, anxious to kiss her again.

"Mark, maybe we should stop… you don't seriously want to make love here."

"Why not here?"

"This is your parents' house."

"Yeah, and it's my room and my bed. I can do what I want."

"But _sex_?" Trai looked incredulous. "God, Mark, your family hates me enough already."

"They don't know you." Mark's sexual desire was definitely suffering from this prolonged foreplay. "Please, Trai. We need this. You know we do."

"All right," Trai sighed. She undid her bra for him, since he'd been struggling, and he smiled gratefully.

"Damn the man who invented the front-closure bra," he murmured as he ran his tongue up her neck.

"Women consider it a blessing. We damn the man who invented the push-up bra."

"Men call _those_ a blessing."

"Yeah, and women call it objectifying. Help me get these off," she murmured into his ear, slipping his hand beneath the waistband of her pantyhose. He helped her get the hose and her panties off as she pulled off his boxers.

Without hesitating, Mark kissed her deeply and let himself go, enjoying how her unease slipped away as the purely physical pleasure replaced it. Though she was worried about Mark's family hearing them, Mark assured her it wouldn't be a problem.

Mark had to tear himself away from her after they'd finished, resting on top of her, both of them panting and sweating. He kissed her deeply and ran his hands over her body, one of them lightly brushing her breast. She responded with a deeper kiss, lightly brushing her fingers against his inner thigh, smiling as he shuddered.

"Okay, so maybe it wasn't appropriate for your parents' house… or your old bed…"

"But it felt good anyway?"

"Yeah," Trai sighed. He rolled off of her and pulled the covers over them. She rested her head against his chest and murmured, "I love you, Mark."

Mark kissed the top of her head and said softly, "I love you too."

* * *

They fell asleep in each other's arms, though it never really occurred to either of them that maybe falling asleep naked in Mark's bed wasn't exactly the wisest thing to do given the current situation.

At 8 AM, Mark's father knocked on the door.

"Mark?" Mr. Cohen called. "Breakfast is ready!"

Still asleep, his face buried in Trai's hair, Mark didn't answer. Mr. Cohen turned the doorknob, found the door was unlocked, and went to try and wake up Mark; he knew Trai was sleeping in Mark's room too.

What he didn't know was that they were sleeping naked in the same bed.

"Jesus Christ!" he hollered, uncharacteristically.

Mark was up like a shot, belatedly realizing that he and Trai were naked and that his father was there. _Shit shit shit! Fuck!_

"Dad, it's not what it—" he was trying to explain as Trai groggily opened her eyes. She sat up quickly, holding the sheet to her chest and also stammering to explain. "M—Mr. Cohen, it's not… we're not…"

"You _slept_ with her under my roof?" Mr. Cohen hollered, striding angrily to where his son was sitting in bed, his hand raised as if to strike him. Hearing all the shouting, Jane and Cindy had come upstairs also. Cindy immediately turned away, appalled by the scene and making sure Greg and the kids were nowhere nearby, while Jane grabbed her husband's wrist and said sharply, "Samuel. Leave them be."

"I'm not fucking allowing _my son_ to fuck his _whore_ in _my house_!" Samuel yelled.

Trai drew in her breath, closing her eyes tightly. She'd been called a whore before, only by a different voice.

Mark stared at his father angrily. "Don't call her that. You cannot fucking say that about her."

"Leave, Mark," Samuel said angrily, his voice low. "Leave and take her with you."

"No problem," Mark muttered, leaving Samuel to stalk angrily from the room.

Mark tried to put his hand on Trai's shoulder, but she just whispered, "Don't," and turned away, grabbing some clothes from her suitcase and pulling them on under the sheet.

Mark turned wordlessly to his mother. "Mom… I…"

Jane sighed and leaned against his dresser. "It's not like I didn't know you slept with women, Mark. I'd prefer you didn't do it here, but I can't stop you and I'm not going to. I'm sorry about your father, Mark. I really am. Tracy…" Jane tried to get her son's girlfriend to look up, but to no avail. "For what it's worth, you have my approval. The others will come around eventually. If not, don't put too much stock in it."

Jane leaned down and kissed her son's forehead. "Call soon."

"Mom, again… I'm really sorry…"

Jane sighed. "We'll discuss this at another time. Good-bye, Mark."

It was Mark's turn to sigh, regretfully. None of this had gone the way he'd planned. "'Bye, Mom."

Once Jane left, Trai finished dressing in silence. Mark pulled on his boxers and jeans, grabbing a spare shirt from his suitcase and trying again to talk to her. "Trai?"

Trai finished shoving things into her suitcase. "Let's just go home, Mark," she said quietly. "I just want to go home."

* * *

**A/N- 'Ello, loves!**

"**Good Enough" is a song by Evanescence.**

**Short chapter but there's more on the way. I've been doing really well with writing this lately :) And for anyone who's wondering—I have a big Jewish family. I have witnessed this type of Inquisition, lol. (Though events have never **_**quite **_**turned out the way I picture them here, haha!) And also, I'm sixteen but I've been stuck with the Four Questions for about eleven years now, lol.**

**Diva Actress- Don't worry, I feel the same way about fictional characters, lol.**

**Mark's Maureen- Steph, you get enough of me every day, do you not:)**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- My Playbill tells me that Kyle is the understudy for Mark AND Roger. Anyway, he was SOOO freaking adorable and I loved him as Mark! And Tim Howar was freaking amazing. And it's Bowles, darling. Sally Bowles. –wink-**

**Birdhearted- Hehe, hope you liked it.**

**BroadwayBabe32- I love working with April; since the only thing we have about her is "slit her wrists in the bathroom," she's a LOT of fun to play around with.**

**Angel718- Thanks! And yep, Roger took it hard. I tried to think about how someone in his situation would take it; hope I made it realistic.**

**Readerfreak10- Thanks!!**

**MidnightPopcorn- Ah, that's right, the Unicorn story. That one made me laugh. Thanks again for reviewing!**

**Tina101- Thanks!**

**Next chapter should come soon! Have a marvelous week!**

**- Sally**


	13. Screenwriter's Blues

Chapter Thirteen  
Screenwriter's Blues

"Did your mom ever find you with a girl?"

It was early in May. Mark and Roger were sitting in Roger and Mimi's loft. Roger glanced at Mark, who was focused intently on his beer bottle. "No. Why do you want to know?"

Mark breathed out slowly. He and Roger hadn't talked much throughout the last few weeks; Roger had been caught up with Mimi while Mark had been trying to talk to Trai.

Things had changed between Trai and Mark since Passover, though both of them were too stubborn to admit it. They hadn't made love since that night in his bedroom at Scarsdale—Trai hadn't been feeling right about their relationship since.

What was really starting to worry Mark was how distant she'd become, burying herself in her writing and books. He'd tried to coax her out on his own, but now he was really worried. "Trai and I had sex at Passover," he admitted. "… And my dad caught us in bed the next morning."

"I figure he didn't take it well?"

"He called her my whore."

Roger winced. "How did she take it?"

"Not well, obviously. We've barely talked, and when we do, she skirts the issue." _I just want to go home, _she'd said. And she'd been silent the whole ride, staring out the window the whole time.

Mark sighed and told him, "She says it doesn't feel right anymore. What my dad said got to her. I don't want to break up with her because my father was an asshole."

"Maybe you should talk to her?"

"Maybe," Mark sighed. "How's Mimi?"

"She's doing fine. Six months now."

"Damn, time flew. You guys find out the sex of the baby?"

"We _were_ holding off, but we're giving up. We're going in a few days; we'll find out then."

Mark smiled. "So I guess I'm an uncle."

"Guess you are," Roger said with a laugh. "And I'll be a father… _me_ a father."

"After you told me you wouldn't have any kids… I didn't think I'd be an uncle. I mean, I guess I am, with Cindy's kids, but I've always been closer to you than to my sister."

"We didn't plan on it happening, but… God, Mark, I'm just… _happy_. I'd never realized how much I wanted it."

"You think Mimi's happy?"

"I know she is."

* * *

"_'O, spite! O, hell!'_… dammit, what's the next.…?"

Mark looked up from his screenplay. He'd barely made any headway on it at all in the last couple months. "What are you doing?"

Trai was pacing, reciting to herself, "_'I see you all are bent/To set against me for your merriment…'_"

Mark got up and stood in front of her. "Trai, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to memorize, Mark; I need to concentrate."

"Memorize what?"

Trai sighed, exasperated. "_A Midsummer Night's Dream._ Angie and I worked on it in college; I played Helena. She found a production of it a few blocks from here; we're going to try out for the hell of it."

Mark could tell he was irritating her, but he didn't want her to shut him out. "Can I help you?"

Trai sighed. "Sure. Whatever." She leafed through the tattered book and handed it to him. "Read for Demetrius…"

"_'Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair?/Or rather do I not in plainest truth/Tell you I do not, nor I cannot, love you?'_"

"_'And even for that do I love you the more./I am your spaniel, and Demetrius,/The more you beat me the more I will fawn on you./Use me but as your spaniel: spurn me, strike me… strike me…'_ Dammit!"

She sighed in frustration and sat down on the couch, taking the script from Mark and reading it over. Mark sat down next to her. "Trai… is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Trai mumbled, not looking up from her script.

Mark gently put his hand on the script and pushed it into her lap. "Trai, look at me."

Annoyed, Trai looked up at him. _"What?"_

"Tell me honestly that you're okay."

"I'm _fine_," Trai insisted.

As hard as he tried, Mark didn't believe her.

* * *

"I'm worried about her," Mark admitted to Angie over coffee at the Life three days later.

Angie curled some of her red hair around her finger. "What's she been doing?"

"Well, lately, she's been rehearsing _Midsummer_ like there's no tomorrow. I've found her with _To Kill a Mockingbird_ a couple nights. She must be thinking about Danny."

Angie nodded, sighed. "He was the one she'd always go to with a problem. With something like what happened to you guys, she'd be talking to him."

"What about you? Or Micah?"

"She's never been great at telling us her problems."

"Even when both of you lived together?"

"Yeah. She just doesn't like to talk. It's not who she is."

Mark sighed. "I guess I should be glad she talks to me. But when she talks to no one else and there's something she's not discussing with me, she does this."

"Just so you know—I've known her nine years, almost ten. _The Bell Jar _and _The Catcher in the Rye_—those are your warning signs. _Catcher_ is the worst. If you ever see her reading those, call me… there's something seriously wrong if she is."

"I just… wish she'd be more open."

"Welcome to our world," Angie sighed. "The books are pretty much all you've got. I had it down to a science when we were roommates. Have you seen her writing?"

"Yeah. She trashed most of it, though. She's frustrated, I know that. And most of it's because of me."

"I know you don't want to hear this, but it's likely there's more to it than just you. Trai… she tends to let her problems build up."

"You think she'll talk eventually?"

"She should," Angie said with a nod. "She will."

* * *

"Hel—Trai, what are you doing with that lighter?"

"Burning this."

"Why?"

"Because it sucks," Trai mumbled, watching the piece she'd attempted to write burn a little before she threw it onto the floor, stamped it out, and threw the charred paper in the trash.

Roger glanced at the ashes scattered on the floor and then at Trai. "Trai, really, is something going on? Mark's getting worried."

Trai sighed. "Will everyone _stop_ asking me if I'm okay? I'm frustrated. I haven't written anything in weeks. Mark is on me every two seconds asking if I'm all right. And _now_ he has you doing it, too!"

"Trai, we're worried."

"Don't worry about me," Trai snapped.

Roger sighed. "Is Mark home?"

"No. He went out, took his camera with him."

"Oh. I just wanted to let you guys know, we found out the sex of the baby."

"And?"

"It's a girl," Roger said with a grin.

Trai smiled and hugged him. "That's so great. Excited?"

"Oh, yeah. Only three months left," he sighed contentedly.

"Is Mimi excited?"

"Mmhmm. Happy as hell. She wanted to know if you wanted to do some shopping with her soon, for the baby."

"Oh, yeah. I love to help with all that," Trai said with a smile. "I'm so happy for you guys."

"How've you and Mark been doing?" Roger asked offhandedly.

Trai waved a hand. "He's been a little pushy lately, but we're fine."

"He told me about what happened at Passover."

Trai sighed. "I know we were wrong to do that there. His family thinks I'm a whore; frankly I can see why they would. Rog, you have to understand, after what happened there I really don't feel right about Mark and me at all."

Roger nodded. "Still, Trai, at least talk to him. He really is worried."

"I don't like to discuss what's on my mind, doesn't he _get_ that?"

"He does, but it doesn't mean he's going to let that be. He loves you, Trai, he really does. He doesn't want to see you hurting or shutting him out."

"I don't talk. Besides, it's nothing. It's stupid."

"Whatever it is, he'll want to hear it," Roger reminded her gently.

"If I feel like it, I'll tell him. Tell Mimi we can go shopping in a week or two, okay?"

"Okay. And one more thing—it's coming up on her birthday in June; I wanted to do something for her. You and Mark want to help?"

"Sure. Any ideas?"

"Lame as it sounds, I was thinking maybe a picnic in Central."

Trai nodded. "Sounds great. We can talk more in the next few days."

Roger smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

"Not a problem."

* * *

"_'Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid…'_"

Mark could hear Trai muttering to herself as she came into the loft. "Hey. How'd the audition go?"

"Well. I think. I hope," Trai muttered as she pulled off her coat.

"I was just about to make dinner," Mark tried. "Hungry?"

"Kind of. Want me to cook?"

"No, no. Sit. Relax. What do you want?"

"Do we have any pasta?"

Mark checked the cabinet. "Yeah. Want that?"

"Sounds good. You talk to Roger at all?"

"No. Why; did he come by?"

"Yeah. He and Mimi found out they're having a girl."

Mark smiled widely as he put the water on to heat. "Lauren Davis."

"Yeah," Trai said with a small smile. "You think they'd consider me an aunt?"

"Oh, yeah. Trai, you're part of this family, we've told you that."

"It's just weird to me. I've only known you guys five months."

"You're family," Mark insisted. He sat down next to her as he waited for the water to heat. "Trai, I know there's something bothering you."

Trai sighed. There was more than one thing. "Your dad called me a whore, Mark. I know what your family thinks, and I don't like it."

"Trai, I keep telling you they don't matter. They shouldn't judge you because of something stupid like that. I shouldn't have pushed you into having sex when you were afraid they'd find out. It's my fault and I know it. I'm really sorry," he said softly. "Forgive me?"

Trai nodded, putting her hand over his and squeezing. "It's not all your fault. Mine, too. I'm sorry I got so upset."

"Don't worry about it." Mark leaned in and kissed her forehead before getting up to add the pasta. "So what happened at the audition?"

"I think I did well. I remembered all my lines, and the director seemed impressed. Angie's had more experience that I have, so I think she really has a shot."

"I'm sure you do too," Mark said encouragingly. "You've played the role before. And if you need to run lines, I'll help."

"That's sweet of you. Thanks."

"It's no problem. Trust me, I had to do it with Maureen about a million times. I acted a few times in high school, not that I was any good. My English teacher liked to torment me. I played Romeo in the ninth grade, not that anyone wanted to kiss me."

"Aww, you poor thing. For what it's worth, I do," Trai teased lightly, getting up and wrapping her arms around his waist, kissing just off to the side of his mouth.

"Thank you, my love," Mark said with a smile. "So, we're okay now?"

"Yeah. We're okay," Trai assured him. Still, Mark could tell something was on her mind as he served the pasta and they ate. To make conversation, he asked, "How did Morrie like your draft?"

"He loved it," Trai told him. "It'll be out by August."

"See? I told you it was good."

"Yeah, well, you're my boyfriend; everything I write is good to you."

"Well, I _was_ the inspiration for the character. The book has to be good," Mark teased with a grin.

"So it would seem. However, you've now read both of my books—promise you won't read any others in the future? My boyfriend reading the erotica I write is a really weird image."

"Well, I'll do that; meanwhile, you only see the films of mine I let you see. Deal?"

"Deal," Trai laughed. "We really have no confidence, don't we?"

"Guess not."

They finished dinner and settled into the living room after cleaning up. Mark watched the news at a low volume while Trai read a book.

Mark smoothed her hair. "Have I told you lately that you're beautiful?"

"No," Trai said with a smirk. "Do tell."

Mark pulled her into his lap. "You're absolutely amazing," he murmured into her ear, kissing her neck. "You're so beautiful." He gently ran his fingers through her hair.

"Glad you think so," Trai said softly. She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. Mark gently pushed her hair from her face. "Something bothering you?" he asked again, softly.

"Not really." Trai paused but then admitted, "Okay, it'll sound really stupid, but it's the anniversary of my senior prom."

"Bad memories?"

"Some good, some bad. My date was terrible. Alan Patterson. He got drunk within the first half an hour; I ditched him. I walked on the beach with my friends at about midnight… came home at two in the morning. I was… I was so damn happy. Danny was home, and we talked… one of the last times we really talked to each other before his addiction," she explained quietly.

Mark rubbed her shoulder. "If you want to talk about Danny, I'll listen," he said softly.

Trai nodded and began.

* * *

_Trai very quietly let herself into the house with her key. She eased off her sandals so that the noise they made when she walked wouldn't wake her parents, going up the stairs and into the bathroom that connected to her room. She got her pajamas from where she'd left them earlier, got out of her dress, and ran a bath, soaking for a half hour or so to get the spray and glitter out of her hair._

_Getting out of the bath, she pulled the drain plug and wrung out her hair, pulling it up into a ponytail and changing into her pajamas, going into her room._

_She was surprised to find Danny sitting in the chair by her bed. "Jem!"_

_"Hey, Scout," Danny said with a smile, giving her a long hug and kissing her cheek._

_"When did you get home from Harvard?" Trai asked him, sitting on her bed and grabbing a pillow, hugging it between her knees and chest._

_"A little after you left. And how are you doing, Little Ms. Future-Dartmouth-Scholar?"_

_Trai grinned widely; her acceptance to her dream school was still surreal. "I'm great. The prom was… amazing. I've never been to anything like it. I just… I felt like… when I was dancing with my friends, with the dress and the shoes and everything… I just felt like I was beautiful. For once."_

_"Hey, don't say that," Danny admonished gently. "You're beautiful, you know that."_

_"Um, you're my brother, Jem, you kinda have to say that."_

_Danny smiled and ruffled her hair. "How was Alan?"_

_"Ugh. I ditched him."_

_"Then who'd he end up with?"_

_"A flask full of whiskey."_

_Danny laughed and shook his head. "Good going, Scout. Get some sleep, okay? We can talk tomorrow."_

_Trai nodded and gave him a tight hug. "Love you."_

* * *

Mark squeezed her shoulder. "You really miss him, huh?"

Trai nodded. "I was closer to him than anyone else. I just… I miss high school sometimes. I miss how it was before all this shit happened," she sighed.

Mark got up carefully and held out his hands. "Get up."

"Why?"

Mark pulled her up, gently pulling her into a dance with him. Trai was surprised. "Since when can you dance?"

"You never asked," Mark reminded her with a laugh. "And I'm better than you might think."

After another few minutes Trai couldn't deny that. She moved in closer and kissed him. "Thank you," she said softly.

"You know I'd do anything for you, right?" Mark reminded her, gently touching his forehead to hers.

"I know. The same for you." She nuzzled his cheek gently.

Mark glanced at the clock. "_'The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:/Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.'"_ he quoted.

Trai looked at him with amazement. "You read my script, didn't you."

Mark gave her a grin, refused to answer, and pulled her into the bedroom.

* * *

**A/N- Hey, everyone!**

"**Screenwriter's Blues" is a song by Soul Coughing.**

**Tina101- I don't like writing Mark's dad either, but I had to have some kind of conflict XD**

**I Always Get It For Free x3- Hehe, thanks :) The bra part is one of my favorites.**

**Midnightpopcorn- -hands you butter knife with which to stab Mark's family-**

**Diva Actress- Nope, that was all me, lol.**

**Birdhearted- Unless one of my cousins spawns soon, I'm stuck with the Four Questions for a **_**long **_**time, haha.**

**Mark's Maureen- Steph, we've discussed this. My story. Mark fucks who I say he does!**

**Readerfreak10- Thanks!**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Ooh, so Trai has your approval? Haha, just kidding.**

**Angel718- Glad to know it's paying off; I'm having fun!**

**JustAnotherTeenageGirl- Thanks!! And there's definitely more Trai/Roger in the next few chapters, but some of it may not be in the way you'd expect.**

**Next update should be soon. Have fun, my lovelies!**

**- Sally**


	14. Summer Breeze

Chapter Fourteen  
Summer Breeze

"Roger, where are we going?" Mimi asked for the fourth time that night.

Roger kept his hands over Mimi's eyes as he walked behind her, guiding her steps. "You'll see," he said mischievously.

It was nearing the middle of June. Mimi was seven months pregnant, and it was her 22nd birthday. Though Mimi was convinced she wasn't going out in public for the next two months—she claimed to hate how she looked—Roger had pushed and prodded until she'd finally agreed to come out and see the surprise. Trai and Mark had already set everything up.

Preparations for Lauren's addition into the boho gang were in full swing. Trai and Mimi would be shopping for clothes and furniture over the next few days, and Mark and Roger were attempting to make heads or tails of the instructions to assemble the crib and stroller. So far, they'd had no luck—partly because the instructions had gone missing.

Finally, Roger stepped out from behind Mimi, putting his hand on her shoulder to stop her and uncovering her eyes. "Here we are!"

"Happy 22nd birthday, Meems," Trai said with a soft smile as she got up to hug her.

Trai and Mark were sitting on a low hill in Central Park, a blanket spread out under them, complete with picnic dinner. The sun was getting lower in the sky—in an hour or two it would be sunset.

"I figured the four of us could have dinner at someplace that wasn't a restaurant," Roger told Mimi. "You like it?"

"I love it," Mimi said earnestly, giving him a small kiss, pressing as close into him as her stomach would allow. Roger smiled and deepened the kiss.

"Oh, get a room," Mark joked, even as Trai stretched out and rested her legs in his lap.

Roger flipped him off, sitting down with Mimi as they started to eat.

"How're rehearsals going, Trai?" Mimi asked.

Trai beamed. Looking at Mark, she recited, "_'Your virtue is my privilege. For that/It is not night when I do see your face,/Therefore I think I am not in the night.'_ Very well, thank you," she clarified with a laugh. "Still memorizing." She'd gotten the part of Helena, like she'd hoped for; Angie was playing Titania.

"Your Shakespeare is almost as sexy as your Italian."

"_Grazie, tesoro,_" Trai laughed, giving Mark a kiss.

Roger mockingly rolled his eyes. "You two need lives."

"By the way, how has the crib assembly been coming, boys?" Trai asked as she broke her and Mark's kiss.

Roger held up his fingers, two of which bore band-aids. "Excruciatingly painful slow going," he laughed. "Still no sign of the instructions."

"And the only ones we do have," Mark chimed in, "are in French."

"You two are hopeless," Mimi chuckled.

"We _will_ figure this out," Mark insisted.

"You say this now," Roger directed at him. "Do you remember when you, me, Maureen, and April tried to put together that bookcase for your editing room?"

"Okay, it wasn't supposed to be that hard."

"And yet it took us three weeks…"

Once they'd finished the food, they all sat there, relaxing, watching the sky darken. As twilight fell, Roger took the camera Trai had brought and focused it on Mark and Trai. He had his arm around her, pulling her close to him, and she was laughing at something he'd said, smiling. He snapped the picture too quickly for either of them to object.

"Hey!" Trai laughed. "Give fair warning before taking pictures."

"You both looked fine," Roger laughed, handing her the camera. "Geez."

When the picture came out a few weeks later, Trai had to agree that they did. She saved the picture, setting it in a small frame, leaving it on her nightstand.

* * *

The day after the picnic, Trai and Mimi were amidst what felt like an armada of expectant mothers as they browsed through baby clothes in one of the stores in the local mall. Trai was wearing a light, short-sleeved button-down and capris, her hair up in a ponytail; Mimi was in the maternity clothes that one of Joanne's sisters had lent her.

"Seems to me," Trai remarked, "that I'm the odd one out in this place."

"Don't worry; I'm the youngest," Mimi laughed as she held up a pink onesie. "Like it?"

"It's cute. You think Roger will tolerate pink?"

"Well, if he won't, he's going to," Mimi told her with a smirk. Trai smiled and remarked, "You think they've figured out that we hid the English version of the directions?"

"I very sincerely doubt it. When they give up—or when we tire of watching them suffer—we can give them back," Mimi giggled.

Trai pulled a sunflower-patterned dress from one of the racks. "Think it's cute?"

"Oh, definitely. By the way, thanks for helping me shop. Roger has no eye for this kind of thing."

"Trust me, neither does Mark. And I don't mind at all. I've done this before with my aunts and cousins. You have no idea how many of them are starting to look at me and ask when it's gonna be _my _turn," she told Mimi with a roll of her eyes.

"So you have one of _those_ families."

"My dad's side is the one we see the most. Four words—big, loud, nosy, Jewish."

"I take it Mark's not meeting them for a while."

"For as long as I can possibly put it off."

Mimi smiled and looked at all the other women around. "It's still hard to believe that in two months Roger and I will have a daughter," she admitted.

"Well, I can understand that. You thought for a long time that you wouldn't… getting that chance has to feel weird," Trai remarked. "I shudder to think of what Mark will be like if I ever get pregnant," she laughed. "He won't even let me mention anything that even slightly encroaches on 'girl problem' territory."

"He's so squeamish," Mimi laughed. "It's kind of funny half the time."

"Half the time? I love skeeving him out," Trai smiled. "It's cruel but it's fun." She paused for a minute or two before asking softly, "Since the attack… how've you been?" They hadn't broached the subject since.

"It was tough, at first. It took me a week or two to be able to be near Roger at night. But I'm better now."

Trai nodded. "I'm glad you're okay."

"You helped. A lot."

Trai smiled weakly. "It's not something I ever pictured being able to help with, but if you're okay, then I'm glad I helped."

They shopped for a while more, generally talking and laughing, and Trai found that she'd really come to regard Mimi as a close friend, much like Angie. It was strange for her; she wasn't used to trusting people, but Mark's friends had really become like her family.

"How do you think the boys are doing with the crib?" Mimi asked with a laugh as they sat down to eat at the food court.

"Well, we're on Day Three of them trying to put it together with no instructions… ten bucks says they're _still_ in the dark…"

* * *

"Okay," Mark announced as he came into the living room. "French-English dictionary."

"Thank God," Roger mumbled, eyeing the pieces of crib still scattered over the floor.

"You know, if we at least had Italian or Spanish directions, Trai or Mimi could be helping us."

"I'm starting to think they're behind all this."

"It wouldn't surprise me. Okay, if this means what this says it does, we have to connect Rod A to Rod B."

"Well, that's… really simple. And what would either of those look like?"

"Well, Rod A has this ball-type thing on the end and Rod B—"

"Just give me the paper." Roger took the paper from Mark and located the two rods. "Okay, now what?"

"Rods C and D go together too… and they would be… here," Mark said, picking up the two of them and surveying them. "Okay, it would help if it said _how_ to put them together."

"I'll get the hammer." Roger got up to go and find the hammer. "Have you heard from Maureen and Jo lately?"

"Yeah, actually. Maureen says they're almost cleared for adoption."

"That's great." Roger smiled. "Man, I can't even imagine us all raising kids together."

"I can. You do realize we will corrupt our children at an early age."

"No, you and Trai will corrupt your children at an early age. Goddamn, do you two need to learn volume control."

Mark blushed furiously. "Okay, what did I tell you about listening in on me?"

"Trust me, it's not like we haven't tried to tune you out. But at least we knew you'd made up," Roger smirked.

Mark rolled his eyes. "I'm going to get the instructions from her tonight," he said, completely changing the subject. "She and Mimi are definitely behind this."

* * *

"Evening," Trai said with a smile, coming out of the kitchen as Mark came through the door. "Want a cookie?"

Mark raised an eyebrow. "You made cookies?"

"When I'm bored or stressed, I bake. Try one." She dangled a chocolate chip cookie in front of his nose; Mark took it and bit into it. "Pretty good, actually."

"You're surprised?" Trai teased with a mock pout. "I take pride in my baked goods."

Mark smiled and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Where'd you put the directions?"

"What directions?" Trai murmured into his lips.

"The ones for the crib."

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, yes you do. You, my love," Mark murmured into her ear, "are a cruel, cruel woman."  
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Trai repeated, grinning mischievously, slipping her tongue into his mouth to silence him.

They moved further into the living room, lying down on the couch, Trai beneath him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing him deeper. Mark slipped his hand into her back pocket and extracted a piece of paper. "Ha!" he said with a grin, breaking the kiss.

"Damn," Trai laughed. "That wasn't fair."

"You and Mimi are _mean_, do you know that?"

"Yes," Trai laughed. "My idea in the first place. Did you at least get the crib together?"

"Yeah, but it took us four hours and a French dictionary. It's some really shoddy craftsmanship."

"So the English directions are pretty much _ex post facto_?"

"Well, _now_ we're going to go back and do it right."

"Of course you are. Mind sitting up for a sec? I have to go put the steak in to cook."

"Steak? Damn, you really do cook when you're bored."

"No shit, Sherlock." Trai got up, pulling her hair into a ponytail. "How do you take yours?"

"Medium."

"All right, then. How's Roger?"

"He's fine. Knows some more French than he ever pictured learning, thanks to you and Mimi."

Trai rolled her eyes and put the steak into the oven. When it was done cooking, she set the table and served dinner. Watching her, Mark asked her, "How have you been recently?"

"I'm fine," Trai told him, glancing up as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you had a nightmare the other night," he said softly, putting his hand over hers. "You were crying in your sleep."

Trai winced. "It happens every so often. Your dad calling me a whore… brought a lot back for me…"

Mark rubbed her hand with his thumb. "Baby, I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be sorry. It's my problem, not yours."

"Can I help?" Mark asked softly. "You know how much it kills me when you're upset."

"Just… if it gets really bad, could you just hold me until I calm down?" Trai asked quietly. "It… it makes me feel better…"

Mark brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Okay," he said softly. "And if you need to talk, I'm here."

Trai leaned in and kissed him. "I know. Thanks, Mark. It means so much to me… _you_ mean so much to me."

After dinner they settled into their normal routine. Mark sat with his editing equipment and tried to piece together his documentary. Trai lay down on the couch with her script, memorizing Act III.

"Man. I still have the footage from the night we met," Mark laughed. "Six months ago, now…"

Trai smiled. "If we ever get married, we should do it by the duck pond. Maybe for your birthday I'll get you a red hunting hat," she teased, flipping over onto her stomach.

"Considering the first thing you said to me was 'hey, Holden,' it would be appropriate."

"Well, it _is_ one of my favorite books."

"And yet according to Angie, you only read it when you're depressed."

"Not _depressed_," Trai insisted. "Upset, maybe." Still, she knew that there was at least some truth to Angie's words.

"Well, regardless, I'll probably always thank JD Salinger for bringing us together."

Trai smiled. "_'How happy some o'er other some can be,'_" she murmured into his ear as she got up and stood behind his chair, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Mark twined his fingers with hers and held tight. "You do know I'm going to film your performance in a week or two."

"Do you have to?" Trai groaned.

"Yes, I have to," Mark smiled and tilted his head, kissing her. "I'm merely filming my girlfriend's debut."

"But your girlfriend looks bad on camera," Trai insisted.

"My girlfriend," Mark whispered into her ear, "is beautiful no matter what she thinks."

"_'Call you me fair? That fair again unsay!'_"

"And she," Mark continued, "is going to be filmed no matter what she says."

"Fine, but I'm warning you, there're two guys fighting for me in this play. Sure you can handle that?"

"I can take them down," Mark teased.

"Oh, please; they'd kick your ass."

"They may fight for you, but do they know you like I do?"

"No, and I'd rather you don't divulge _that_ kind of information to Ray and Kevin. If you're a _really_ good boy in the next two weeks," she said with a grin, "maybe I'll even go commando that night."

Mark turned to face her, his interest piqued. "Really, now?"

"_'I am your spaniel,'_" Trai reminded him with a laugh, and kissed him.

* * *

**A/N- Hey, everybody!**

**Well, I'm done with school and thank GOD that's over :) This means I'll have time to work more on my fic… meaning faster updates. Plus, for all of you that have liked this one, I am in fact writing a sequel as well.**

**Wow, so many of you were really worried there! I won't say that Trai and Mark are out of the woods **_**just**_** yet, but you'll see…**

"**Summer Breeze" is a song by Seals & Crofts.**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Hehe, thanks :)**

**Tina101- If you're thinking what I think you were thinking, you may in fact be right, but that is all I am saying!**

**Diva Actress- Even without your curse, I may well be reading the Four Questions until then, haha.**

**Birdhearted- I fell in love with **_**Midsummer**_** when we learned it, and it actually really reflects some things I had planned for this story… there **_**is**_** foreshadowing with some of the lines I used last chapter!**

**MidnightPopcorn- -hands you large sword- Haha, just kidding.**

**I Always Get It For Free x3- Aww, thanks!**

**Angel718- Thanks! I loved the play and it ended up really working with the story.**

**Mark's Maureen- Steph, you never cease to entertain me.**

**ForLoveorMoney- Thanks :)**

**Like I said, more updates soon thanks to no school. Yay! Have fun, my darlings!**

**- Sally**


	15. I'm Yours

Chapter Fifteen  
I'm Yours

"_'O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd./She was a vixen when she went to school,/And though she be but _little_, she is fierce!'_"

Mark had to smile as he filmed Trai performing one Friday night two weeks later. It was the middle of July, making "midsummer" _apropos_. It was the first of the three performances they'd be doing, but Trai was assured and confident. Mark had spent many hours running lines with her, filming her and letting her watch her performance to see what she'd done wrong. Roger and Mimi had asked to see the tape when they got home; they would have seen the play, but Mimi was trying not to put too much strain on herself as they got closer to her due date.

Theresa, the girl playing Hermia, was somewhat shorter than Trai, as was called for by the stage directions. The audience laughed, as they were supposed to, at the two girls railing on each other over their respective heights.

Angie, too, was doing wonderfully as Titania, a flower pinned in her red hair. Will, who was playing Bottom, was appropriately a ham. As Act IV opened, she recited, "_'Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,/While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,'_" patting the cheek of the donkey head-adorned Will. Trai, who as Helena was asleep onstage, was smiling, just barely.

The cast received a standing ovation at their bows, with Mark shutting off the camera and clapping loudly. Spotting him in the audience, Trai blushed and disappeared backstage, coming to find him minutes later with Angie, both still in their costumes.

"Congratulations, baby," he said softly, giving Trai a tight hug and kissing her cheek, regardless of the stage makeup. He then handed the two of them a bouquet of roses each.

Trai's blush deepened. "Oh, God, Mark, you really didn't…"

"Oh, shush. You were amazing. I _told_ you that you could do it."

"He's right, love; you have no confidence," Angie told her.

"Yes, well, neither does he," Trai pointed out. "At least don't show it to Roger and Mimi?"

"They're part of the reason I taped it. They want to see this," he laughed. "Trai, you did great. Just accept it."

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Angie asked, kissing Trai's cheek.

"No problem. 'Bye, honey." They embraced for a second before Angie left the theater. Trai lingered for a few seconds to thank Theresa, Ray, and Kevin—Hermia, Demetrius, and Lysander, respectively—and introduce them to Mark. Once everyone was thanked, Trai and Mark left the theater to walk home.

Mark hugged her close. "Love you," he said softly.

Trai smiled and kissed his cheek. "I love you, too."

* * *

Three mornings later, Trai came into the kitchen wearing one of Mark's button-downs and little else. She was exhausted from performing the last few nights; anticipating this, Mark had already poured her coffee. "Morning, sunshine." 

"Good morning," she murmured tiredly. "God, you have no idea how good it feels to come home and shower to get rid of all the makeup and hairspray. Felt like a clown."

"You looked great. And Roger and Mimi loved you, by the way."

Trai reddened. "Stop."

"No, really, they did. They were impressed."

"How's Mimi been feeling?" Trai asked as she sipped her coffee.

"Okay. Can't expect much better; she's due in about two weeks. Basically Roger's just trying to keep her comfortable."

Trai stretched languidly. "You think we should go down and see them tonight?"

"I'm sure they'd love the company. When he's not asking her if she needs anything every three minutes, they're going stir crazy."

Trai smiled and laughed, resting her feet on his chair. "What d'you want to do today? I'm rehearsal- and play-free."

"I may have an idea," Mark mused, playing with a button on her shirt.

Trai smiled and shook her head. "Why am I not surprised."

"Whatever happened to all your _'spurn me, strike me'_?"

"Honey, that was Shakespeare's sick mind talking, not mine."

"Hate to say it, baby, but you write erotica. Your mind is worse than his was."

"My characters aren't early sadomasochis—never mind, there was that vampire S&M club… all right, fine. You win."

Mark smirked. "You can't win with me, Trai."

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." Trai kissed him deeply and grinned.

* * *

It was Trai's week to do the grocery shopping, and so she was the one who trekked out to the store. Mark, meanwhile, stayed home and tried to bang out some of his screenplay, or at least piece together footage for the documentary. Nothing. He was starting to get a little frustrated by both. Still, the summer—and the fact that New York City was in the middle of a heat wave—meant he and Trai had other things on their mind. 

"Mark, I'm home!" Trai called as she pushed open the door with her hip, backing into the kitchen and setting down a bag. Mark got up to help her.

Once he'd relieved her of the grocery bags, he kissed her hard and pushed her against the wall, his hand inching under her shirt.

"Goddamn, Mark," Trai murmured into his lips. "Weren't we going to see Roger and Mimi?"

"Not right now. Well, not tonight. Mimi's not feeling well."

"Shouldn't we be with her?"

"Right now, I want you," Mark said into her lips.

Trai sighed melodramatically and then smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He stepped carefully to the kitchen counter and laid her down, straddling her.

"This is new territory," she murmured into his mouth. He pulled away from the kisses, licking her neck as he told her, "Do something."

"Like what? Pole dance?"

"I don't care. Anything. Just strip while you're doing it."

Mark helped her pull off her cutoff shorts and the crimson tank top, leaving her in a dark red bra and underwear. Mark removed the bra, cupping her breasts in his hands as she kissed him, a little roughly. She worked off his shirt, then unzipped his fly so he could kick off his jeans.

Still in his boxers, Trai still in her panties, he pressed himself hard against her thigh, teasing her.

"Just do it, dammit," she groaned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Mark slowly reached up the leg of her panties, touching her tenderly. Trai moaned a little, urging him on. They were both sweating, the heat making them both eager. He worked his tongue around in her mouth.

Trai ran her hands down his back and started to work off his boxers. Once she'd gotten them off, he slid down her panties, teasing her a little more before he entered her.

Trai arched her back, loving the feeling. "Mark," she whispered, her eyes closed in pleasure.

He kissed her deeply, nibbling at her lip as he made love to her, with just enough force so that he wouldn't hurt her. She didn't panic at the roughness, knowing that he wasn't doing it to hurt her.

Suddenly the door burst open. "Mar—Whoah! _Whoah_!"

Mark's head snapped up to see Roger in the doorway, doubled over, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"Jesus, Mark! Go at it in plain sight!"

"We weren't _planning_ on _company_!"

"Mimi's in _labor_!"

"… Oh. Fuck," Mark said weakly.

"Yeah… so, um, if you and Trai could come to the hospital…"

"Once we're clothed," Trai supplied.

"_That_… I, um, I need to get back down there, so—"

_"Go!"_ Trai and Mark yelled simultaneously.

* * *

Trai and Mark got to the hospital after things were…_ finished_, Mark having grabbed his camera so he could film. Maureen and Joanne were already there; Benny and Collins were on their way. 

"I think we can safely rule out the kitchen counter on our list of future places to do it," Trai murmured into Mark's ear. Mark reddened, but wrapped his hand around hers. "No one knows. No one will know but Roger."

As they sat, Maureen glanced at them and smiled, knowingly. Leaning over to Trai, she suggested quietly, "Might want to fix your hair."

Trai blushed and raked her fingers through her hair, embarrassedly smoothing it down a little.

Mimi had gone into labor about two weeks early, which wasn't that uncommon, and she and Roger had agreed to the c-section, as planned. It would ultimately lower the risk of Lauren contracting HIV, but the doctors would be testing Lauren just after the birth, just to be sure. Roger was in the room with her, keeping her calm—Mimi, like Trai, wasn't a big fan of hospitals in general, due to what had happened with Angel.

"How've the adoption plans been going?" Mark asked Joanne, who smiled.

"Really well. We've been cleared; now all we need to do is wait for someone to contact us if they want to potentially make us the parents."

Mark smiled. "That's really great, guys. I hope all goes well."

Benny and Collins arrived within ten minutes of each other. They both greeted Trai with a smile and a few questions about how she was doing—they'd each only met her a handful of times, mostly when they'd all gotten together for dinner every month or two. Trai was gradually becoming more comfortable with Mark's friends as she got closer to Roger and Mimi. She could also tell that the gang thought that since she and Mark made it this far, they were definitely going to last, proving the fears they'd had half a year before to be false and short-lived.

"So, Mark, how have you and Trai been doing?" Benny remarked casually.

Mark smiled, blushed. "Great," he said with a soft smile. "We're doing great." Trai laced her fingers with his, squeezing gently.

About half an hour after everyone had finally arrived, a nurse came to find the six of them in the waiting room. "Are you all the Davis family?"

"Yes," all of them answered simultaneously. The nurse found this a little odd but didn't question—it wasn't uncommon in this part of the City for parents not to associate with their children, for friends to act as family. This, she knew, was likely the case, due to Maria and Roger being AIDS patients. "Maria's in recovery with Mr. Davis. You can go in and see them."

"And the baby?" Trai questioned as they all stood.

The nurse smiled. "A beautiful baby girl. Seven pounds, eight ounces."

Trai smiled, relieved everything had turned out okay, and thanked the nurse before following the others to Mimi's room. Collins produced the customary alcohol—this time a bottle of champagne—from the inside pocket of his coat. Mark pushed open the door, Trai following close behind.

"Hey, guys," he said softly, a wide grin spreading over his face.

Mimi was lying on the hospital bed, Roger sitting next to her, Lauren cradled in her arms. The girls smiled, as did Benny; Mark and Collins felt tears welling in their eyes. For Mark, it was getting to see his friends have the one thing they'd never thought they'd have; for Collins, it was that his appreciation for new life had sharpened since losing Angel.

"Look at her," Maureen said softly, reaching down to stroke Lauren's arm. Mark came to stand next to Roger, squeezing his shoulder, keeping an arm around Trai's waist.

Collins uncorked the champagne, pouring some into the cups the hospital staff had given them. "To the newest member of the family. Lauren Faith Davis."

Trai took a cup and drank some, gently making Mark set down the camera and drink some of his. "C'mon, cameraman," she teased. "I can film if you need me to."

"Okay, but be really, _really_ careful," Mark instructed her as he handed her the camera. Watching them, Maureen laughed and told Trai, "Well, that's a sign he trusts you."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I'm protective, is all."

"Mark, you love that camera above all else, don't lie," Roger ribbed him.

Mark glanced at Trai, smiling at the camera. "I don't think I can say that anymore."

Joanne stroked Lauren's cheek gently. "What kind of kids do you think we'll be raising?" she laughed.

"Well, growing up in the East Village, they sure as hell won't be sheltered like I was," Trai chuckled. "I think I almost passed out from culture shock the first time I came here!"

"What was it like back in your hometown?" Collins asked her curiously.

Trai rolled her eyes. "Oh, God, don't even ask. Sheltered, racist bubble on a fish-shaped Island. Huh. Maybe that was why I empathized so much with _To Kill a Mockingbird_…"

Conversation was made and Lauren was marveled over for the next hour or so, until Maureen, Joanne, Benny, and Collins left, with the promise to visit in the next few days. Mark and Trai would be camping out.

Roger looked over at Mark with a smirk once everyone had gone. "You two have your fun?"

Trai blushed profusely; Mark coughed. "Yes, thank you." A glance at Mimi showed Roger had told her too; Mark awarded Roger with a small slap.

Trai moved to sit on the other side of Mimi, looking down at Lauren. Mimi asked gently, "You wanna hold her?"

"Can I?" Trai asked softly, wanting permission.

Mimi nodded and gently placed the baby in Trai's arms. The fuzz of hair on Lauren's head was already slightly blond, like Roger's. Trai gently played with the baby's fingers, a smile on her face. Mark had to smile as well—he'd never seen her with kids, but she was really a natural. She rocked Lauren gently, whispering soft, nonsensical words to the baby.

"Are you happy?" he asked Roger softly. He could tell that Roger had cried in the past few hours.

Roger nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah. I… I really am."

* * *

Trai and Mark fell asleep curled up by the window. Trai woke the next morning to a backache and the sounds of the morning nurse informing Roger and Mimi that they and Lauren could leave in a week or so, and that Lauren's test results would be ready within the next two.

"Mark," she whispered into his ear. "Honey, wake up. It's morning."

Mark groggily woke up. "Been a very, very long time since I've slept on a floor," he remarked, twisting a little to crack his back.

"I think we're going to head out," Trai told Roger and Mimi. "We'll see you guys later, okay? Come by and help with Lauren?"

Mimi smiled. "Sounds great. See you later."

They left the hospital after the necessary embracing and congratulations. Trai shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her cutoffs and sighed, staying close to Mark.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No, just… taking it all in. Summer's my favorite season."

"Well, not only do we not have heat, we don't have AC either, so it'll be damned hot in the loft."

"Not like we didn't find a way to distract ourselves from that."

"No kidding," Mark chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Trai gently kissed his neck. "You," she murmured, "are the best thing to ever happen to me."

Mark smiled as they walked up to the top floor, blushed. "I'm glad you'd say that," he said gently. "I can say the same about you."

They settled down on the couch with the intention of napping; sleeping in the hospital hadn't exactly been a good night's rest. Trai shifted a pile of papers so they could lie down.

"How's the book going? Did Morrie tell you?"

Trai smiled. "It'll be out next month. I'll have the advanced copies in a week or two."

Despite their deal not to see each other's work, Mark couldn't help but be happy for her. "That's totally great," he said with a smile, hugging her close so that she could lay her head on his chest. "Hey, maybe my mom wants a copy."

"I'll sign one for her. I still find it kinda weird that your mom read my book before you and I started dating. I don't wanna know the kinds of images she must see when she looks at me."

"Well, she's already seen us in bed together."

"Don't remind me." She looked up at him, asked softly, "How you been doing recently?"

"Me? I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. Just… all this stuff that's going on around you. Your family, Roger and Mimi having Lauren… I know you're still looking for a job…"

Mark shook his head. "Trai, trust me… in '90 I saw a lot worse and managed to stay sane. I've been through years worse than this."

"Five months to go," Trai said softly. "Five months and we'll be a year. And no one thought it would happen."

"No one can believe that I'm even with a girl still," Mark chuckled. "I swear my mom thought Maureen turned me or something."

"I should hope you're not gay or bi," Trai murmured as both of them started to nod off. "It's always the nice, cute, funny ones."

"You, my love, are the definite proof of my heterosexuality. Trust me."

"Good to know," Trai murmured, kissing his jaw. "You know I love you, right?" she asked softly.

"Of course," Mark said gently. "I love you, too."

Trai kissed him gently and laid her head on his chest. With that, they fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N- Hey, everybody!**

**If I haven't said it before, I am so thrilled with the response to this story! I love getting reviews from all of you, and the support means so much.**

**With that said, I have two friends who also write Rent fics—Mark's Maureen and Bella Winter Rose. Do me a favor, check out their fics "That Face" and "Burn This City"? It would mean a lot to them and me!**

**ForLoveOrMoney- Thanks! And I actually have a majority of the remaining chapters written (though I'm still drafting the sequel). So they'll definitely be coming faster.**

**Diva Actress- In my defense, you can find the play online! Though I am glad I have prompted you to reread the play! XD**

**Birdhearted- Ooh, that's cruel… but still really funny; sounds like something I'd do to my friends!**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Thanks!! Haha, and no worries about sounding stupid in the review… I have the same problem when I drink Mountain Dew. And I'm definitely keeping the wedding by the duck pond in mind… though it may not come so soon.**

**Readerfreak10- Thanks! And I'm glad you read **_**Catcher**_**; I love that book XD If you liked that, **_**The Bell Jar**_** is very similar!**

**Midnightpopcorn- Heh… putting up a tent without directions… that must get messy.**

**Mark's Maureen- Steph, I have not been the innocent Jewish girl for a LONG time…**

**Tina101- Uh… it may not turn out the way you'd expect? –cowers- Don't kill me! You'll see soon enough!!**

**Angel718- Thanks! Heh, that's ironic.**

**QueenKiara- Thanks for reviewing!!**

**I Always Get It For Free x3- Yeah, it actually ended up working with the story a LOT better than I'd planned! I'm glad you like it!**

**Next update should be soon. Happy 4****th****, loves!**

**- Sally**


	16. Me and My Baby

Chapter Sixteen  
Me and My Baby

Even for August, it was extraordinarily hot, and Maureen was in the bath relaxing when the phone rang. She reached for the receiver—Joanne was in court, and she kept the phone nearby in case she called while they were in recess—and picked up. "Hello?"

"Ms. Jefferson?"

"She's not here, actually; I'm her partner, Ms. Johnson. Can I help you?"

"Ms. Johnson! Hi. Um, I actually called regarding adoption…"

Maureen sat up straighter. "Oh! Hi."

"Hi… my name's Julia; I'm seventeen… I'm, um, I'm giving up my baby and I wanted to meet you and Ms. Jefferson…"

Maureen smiled. "Call me Maureen," she said gently, sensing that the girl was scared and probably a little uncomfortable. "How long have you known about the baby?"

"About six months… I'm due in two," Julia said, a little quietly. "It's… kind of scary."

"I can imagine. When would you want to meet us?"

"I was thinking maybe tomorrow? For lunch, maybe?"

"Name the place, and we'll be there."

Julia named a restaurant downtown. Maureen thanked her and hung up, and then on second thought called Mark, since Joanne was in court and she wanted to tell the news to _someone_.

He picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mark, it's me."

"Oh! Hi, Maureen. Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Maureen smiled. "I just got a call from a girl who's giving up her baby. Jo and I are meeting with her tomorrow."

She could hear the smile in Mark's voice. "Wow, Mo, that's… that's amazing. I'm so happy for you guys."

"Thanks. Where's Trai?"

"With her agent. Something about her new book."

"You really love her, don't you?" Maureen asked softly. She could hear it in his voice. She still loved Mark, not quite in the way she once had, but it made her happy to know that he was. She really liked Trai, which had surprised her—none of them were accustomed to seeing Mark with a girl, let alone in a lasting relationship. But Trai had beaten the odds—she was part of the family now.

"I do," Mark admitted quietly. "I… I really do. I never—after you, I never really thought that I'd be picturing spending my life with someone, but… but God, do I want it to be her."

Maureen smiled. "If you really want it, it'll work out," she told him. "Trust me."

* * *

"You're so beautiful," Mark murmured.

"Tell me that when I'm not covered in sweat," Trai chuckled. "You know, you really were not kidding when you said not having air conditioning sucked."

Mark chuckled and rested his chin on Trai's shoulder, curling his body around hers. "Hot?"

"Melting. Christ, I hate winter when it's here, and then there are days like this when I pray for cold."

They were lying under a thin sheet on the living room floor, Trai in her bra and panties, Mark in his boxers. It was too hot for anything else. The heat wave from mid-July had not yet broken, and the loft was hotter than hell. Creative ways of cooling off had been sought; they'd already made love in the bathtub, the kitchen, the couch in the living room. Everything was perfect. They'd never been happier.

Trai sighed contentedly and pressed closer against him, then suddenly remembered. "I have a surprise for you," she said with a small smile. "Wait here." She got up, going into her room and returning, sliding back under the sheet and pressing a book into his hands.

It was _Martini Love_, her latest. The cover was typical to a romance novel, a woman with large breasts pressed to the chest of an impossibly toned man, never mind the fact that this man happened to be a vampire. Mark smiled, remembering the fun she'd had writing this, the times he'd teased her. "Thought you said you didn't want me to read this." He'd read the filmmaking parts while helping her write; she'd made him skim over the sex, embarrassed enough by the fact that he'd read her first novel.

Trai gently opened the book for him, showing him the dedication.

_To Mark.  
__You are my everything.  
_—_T_

Mark looked up at her, speechless. "I—Trai, you didn't…"

"I wanted to," Trai said gently. "You deserved it."

Mark leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, kissing her softly. Trai kissed him back, closing her eyes contentedly.

"So what's next?" Mark asked as Trai moved closer to him.

"I don't have to write another for a while. Next year, probably. I was thinking maybe a Regency… there's no sex, not that we see, anyway, and I always did like Jane Austen… people have started making books out of her works—sequels, stuff like that. I picked up a few to check it out. I'm thinking about it."

Mark smiled. "You never cease to amaze me."

"I should hope not." She stretched her arms over her head. "And I say again, it's too fucking hot in here."

Mark grinned mischievously. "Shower?"

"Oh, yes…"

* * *

Roger glanced up at the ceiling for the fourth time that week. "Do they never _stop_?"

"So they have a sex life. So what?" Mimi remarked as she pulled Lauren's bottle from the microwave.

"It's still weird! I barely ever heard him and Maureen, and it's just… ugh. I don't even want to think about it. She and I are friendly, too—to think of him, and then her, and then the two of them…"

Mimi smiled and plopped down beside him, letting him smooth their daughter's hair. "I would've thought you weren't fazed by these things."

"_Mark_ having a sex life is a different story."

About ten minutes later, Trai came down into the loft in a t-shirt and shorts. "Hi," she said brightly, hugging the two of them and smiling at Lauren. Roger tried hard not to smirk as Mark came down as well. Both of them were wet; it was clear that it had been the shower this time. Again.

"Hey," Mimi greeted the two of them. They came by to help with Lauren every two days or so. "What's new?"

"Not much with us, but Maureen called; said that there's a girl who might want to let them adopt her baby."

Roger grinned. "Wow. That's awesome."

"I know," Mark smiled. "Man, years ago I didn't think Maureen would ever be a mother. I couldn't see her doing it back then. She's better now—I think she'll be great."

They all talked for a while, reminiscing, when Mark looked over at Roger, then to Lauren. "Is she…?"

"Positive?" Roger asked. They'd just gotten the results that morning; it had been two weeks since Lauren's birth.

Mark nodded.

Roger let a smile break over his face. "She's fine," he said softly. "She's just fine."

Trai grinned widely and hugged Roger and Mimi; Mark did the same. He felt better, at least, knowing that while his friends would almost inevitable die from the disease—hopefully, not for a long time—Lauren, his "niece," was at least spared her parents' pain.

"We, um… we wanted to ask you guys if you'd be her godparents," Mimi said quietly. "If… if something happens to us…"

Mark put his hand on hers and squeezed. "We'd love to."

* * *

The restaurant Julia had chosen was just a few blocks from Maureen and Joanne's place. Maureen wore a dress; Joanne a blouse, blazer, and slacks. They wanted to look nice, at least, for the girl considering giving them her baby.

Julia arrived five minutes after they did. She was dressed more casually, in a shirt and shorts. Even at seven months pregnant, she was still fairly tiny, and they had to double-check to make sure she was their girl.

She approached their table tentatively. "Ms. Johnson? Ms. Jefferson?"

Joanne smiled warmly. "Hi, Julia. I'm Joanne; I think you've already spoken to Maureen. Sit, sit."

Julia smiled, already at ease—she'd been nervous the whole night before. "Thank you so much for meeting me."

"It's no problem," Joanne told her. "We're so glad you're considering us."

"Honestly? I really think you guys are my best bet," Julia confessed. "All the other couples, they were really uptight, strict. I like you guys—you're younger, you're easier to relate to. You guys seem like you'd really take care of her—I want my baby to have a good life, good parents."

"It's a girl?" Maureen smiled excitedly.

Julia nodded. " It's a girl."

The waiter came to get their orders. Once he'd left, Joanne looked at Julia. "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

"Seventeen. My parents—they have big plans for me. Ivy League, all that. I'm really good with science." She gave a dry chuckle. "All that bio, and look where it got me. Anyway, my boyfriend and I—this was an accident; we never planned on this happening. But I didn't want to get an abortion; he didn't want me to either. Our parents told us that adoption was the best way; we agreed."

"We'll keep in touch with you, if you want to see her," Maureen offered. "We'll tell her about you and your boyfriend."

Julia smiled. "Could you? Please? I know Davey—that's my boyfriend—would really like that too… just… when it comes to that… tell her it wasn't because we didn't want her? I mean, we love her… we really do…"

Maureen patted her shoulder. "Of course. We'll tell her."

When their food came, they started to eat. Julia asked curiously, "You mentioned something about friends of yours on the phone? And family?"

"Maureen's family is back in Scarsdale; mine is in Boston, but they're definitely going to visit," Joanne explained. "And our friends… Mo, do you have that photo?"

Maureen pulled out a photo they'd taken when visiting Mimi in the hospital. They were all there—Roger, Mimi, Lauren, Mark, Trai, Benny, Collins, Maureen, and Joanne. "Our friends just had a baby girl," Joanne explained. "So, your daughter will have a little cousin."

"And the other couple"—Maureen pointed out Mark and Trai—"they'll probably be getting married and having kids real soon."

Julia smiled. "Are they nice?"

"Mark's my ex; he's a real sweetheart. Trai is really good for him; she's so nice. Roger and Mimi—they're incredible. We don't see Benny and Collins as often anymore, but they really are great guys."

"You guys seem great," Julia said enthusiastically. "Your friends seem really nice, too."

"I'm sure they'd all love to meet you," Maureen offered. "We've been seeing them a lot since Lauren was born."

"If you wouldn't mind, could I?" Julia asked, timidly. "I really like you guys… and I'd like to see more of the family my baby would be going to."

Joanne smiled and told her, "We'll set it up."

* * *

"Which looks better?"

Mark hated this question—he thought she looked beautiful in anything, and she had a better eye than he did—but he obediently looked up at Trai and the two tops she was holding, a gray tank top and a brown t-shirt. "Gray."

Trai nodded and pulled on the tank top; she'd been standing in the living room in a white bra and a pair of Nike shorts. "What're you doing?"

"Screenplay," Mark said absently. "Or the death of me. Whichever way you wanna look at it."

Trai nodded. "Makes me glad _Martini Love _is over and done with." She flopped down on the couch with a copy of _The Awakening _by Kate Chopin.

Mark noticed. "New book?"

Trai nodded. "Read it in high school; wanted to read it again."

"What's it about?"

"Infidelity."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "You getting any ideas?"

"I'm not like Maureen," Trai chuckled. "Chill out."

Speak of the Devil, and she'd appear—Maureen knocked on their door ten minutes later. It had been a week since her and Joanne's initial meeting with Julia, and they'd arranged to have her meet Mark and Trai today.

Trai hopped up and answered the door. "Hey, guys." She hugged Maureen and Joanne, then smiled brightly at Julia. "Hi. I'm Tracy, but call me Trai, please."

Julia shook her outstretched hand, smiled. "I'm Julia."

"The one in his little fantasy world is Mark," Trai added, motioning to her boyfriend, who was poring over his screenplay.

"I am not in a fantasy world! Hi, Julia." Mark got up and offered his hand to the girl. "I'm Mark."

"Nice to meet you both."

"C'mon in." Trai led them all inside and sat on the couch; the three women sat with her while Mark sat on the arm of the couch.

Julia noticed the copy of _The Awakening_ on the table. "Hey, we're reading this in AP Lit."

Trai groaned. "Christ, I'm old!"

"Twenty-seven—"

"Twenty-eight in a few weeks, darling—"

"—is not old," Mark finished his sentence as if she hadn't spoken.

Julia giggled. "How long have you two been dating?"

"Eight months," Trai smiled.

"And what do you guys do?"

"Filmmaker," Mark told her, motioning to his camera, which was sitting on the table.

"Author," Trai smiled.

"Oh, that's so cute. Like in the movies or something. What do you write and film?"

"Documentaries. Some screenplays."

"Romances," Trai blushed.

"Can you give me their names? I love to read."

Trai smiled. "I have some spare copies; I'll get them for you."

Julia told them about her interests—Science and English—and the things she disliked—Gym and Tech. Trai and Mark sympathized, both of them never having been good at gym and Mark having had a traumatic experience with a band saw in the eighth grade, something Maureen remembered and, to Mark's mortification, proceeded to recall in great detail. Julia mentioned her college choices, and questioned Trai, Mark, and Joanne on Dartmouth, Brown, and Harvard.

"So what were you thinking of naming the baby?" Joanne asked as they left Roger and Mimi's—they'd also been great to Julia, and Julia had loved playing with Lauren.

Julia asked, "You really want me to—? Whatever you want to name her is fine."

"We'd really like you to have some say in it," Maureen said gently.

Julia said softly, "I, um… I like Rachel… after my grandma…"

Joanne smiled. "Then that's what we'll call her."

* * *

After he'd gotten Lauren asleep, Roger settled into bed with Mimi. "Julia was nice. Sweet girl."

Mimi nodded. "I really hope she picks them. They really want this."

Roger wrapped his arm around Mimi. "I'm…" he paused, swallowed. "I'm glad Lauren's okay," he said quietly. "I really am."

Mimi turned to face him, realized he was close to crying. "Baby, what is it?" she whispered.

"I was hoping… _praying_… that she wouldn't end up like us… because I—I didn't know if I could forgive myself if she had our disease," he whispered.

Mimi wrapped her hand over his. "I know," she said softly, gently wiping the tears from his face. "I know… I was so scared for her… I still am… I think, _what if she ends up like us? What if she makes the same choices we did?_ But I know… I know that you'll be there, and I'll be there, and she won't turn out like we did."

Roger slowly nodded. "And… Trai and Mark… I know they'll take care of her."

Mimi rubbed his shoulder. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," she said gently.

Roger only nodded.

* * *

Trai laid her head on Mark's chest that night in bed. They each lay there for a moment, Trai listening to his heartbeat, Mark listening to her breathing, before Trai murmured, "I don't think we're ready for a baby just yet… but now that we're surrounded by it, is it… is it wrong for me to want that?"

Mark looked into her eyes, the soft gray of them, flecked with a little gold. She was so beautiful. As he looked at her, he considered the possibilities—a child, maybe looking like him, maybe like her. Maybe a filmmaker or a writer, maybe not.

A baby of their own.

"I don't think we're ready, either, just yet," he softly agreed, squeezing her hand. "But I really do want it, Trai. And you're the only person I want it with."

Trai nuzzled his cheek. "I love you," she murmured.

Mark kissed her. "I love you too. So much." He smoothed her hair. "So what do you want for your birthday?"

Trai groaned and pulled a pillow over her head. "I told you, I don't want anything. I'm going to be twenty-eight and I'm not getting any younger. You know what, fuck it—I do want something. I want the body of a Playboy bunny. A barely legal, big-breasted Playboy bunny."

Mark couldn't help but snort. "Well, I can't help you there, but I _will_ say that you're more beautiful than any of them."

"Yeah. Right. And if I happen to reach under this mattress, I won't find a _Playboy_ or a _Penthouse_?"

"No. Those are back home," he teased. He held her close and kissed her forehead. "You're perfect the way you are. Trust me."

"What Hallmark card are you getting this from?"

"I mean it, Trai. I love you and I don't care how old you are. Besides, I'm the same age and I don't feel old at all."

"Well, good for you." She curled up in the crook of his arm. "I mean it. Don't do anything special for me. I want my twenty-eighth to be greeted with a resounding silence."

He suppressed a smile. "All right, then." He reached over and turned out the light, gently kissing her in the dark.

* * *

**A/N- Hello, my darlings!!**

**Good Lord, it's been too long! I didn't mean to leave all you guys hanging, but I actually just got back from a conference on medicine. It was AWESOME. So, to make up for my prolonged absence, I give you Chapter Sixteen, with the promise that Chapters Seventeen through Twenty-Two are already written! There will be twenty-four chapters and a sequel, since I know some of you want to see the duck pond wedding… -wink-**

**"Me and My Baby" is a song from _Chicago_, and last chapter's "I'm Yours" is by Jason Mraz.**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Hehe, I'm looking forward to seeing the possibilities myself. And yep, I've heard about Anthony and Adam! I think it's great that they're still dedicated!**

**MidnightPopcorn- I'm part Jewish so I knew what you meant :) I believe it's Yiddish but I'm not quite sure either, haha!**

**Reflectionette- Thanks!**

**Tina101- I had to do it! And yeah, you'll see soon… pretty soon…**

**Readerfreak10- Hey, I wouldn't mind sex on the counter, haha. And yep, **_**The Bell Jar**_** is great. I have a thing for depressing books this year…**

**Angel718- Sometimes it's good to torment the characters :) Roger'll just have to wash his eyes. Several times.**

**Brunettebaby233- Thank you so much! I love hearing that!**

**Diva Actress- Whoops! I should've known; I was an emergency C-section myself and I was also born in '91. I went back and modified after I got your review—thanks for that!**

**Birdhearted- Thanks:)**

**I Always Get It For Free x3- Ahh yes, I love Lauren myself. I've had some interesting plans with her for the sketchy drafts I have of when the kids grow up, and she was always one of my favorites. And I'm glad I made you laugh!**

**Bella Nel Rosa- Aww, Li, thanks for reviewing! It made me happy! And I'm so glad you love it; I've been working my ass off, haha. So here's an update—and hopefully a few more—before you leave!**

**Next couple updates probably soon to apologize for the way too long hiatus. Happy reading!**

**- Sally**


	17. A Heart Full of Love

Chapter Seventeen  
A Heart Full of Love

The morning of Trai's birthday, September 16th, dawned bright and sunny, for which Mark was glad. He had completely disregarded Trai's fervent pleas for her birthday to be ignored, and had planned an entire day for them.

He got up on his own at 6:00, and reached over and shut off the alarm on their clock, being careful not to wake her. He knew that if she woke up, she would continually insist on him not doing anymore than he had to. But he wanted to do this—he loved her, and she'd done a beautiful job with his own birthday earlier in the month, buying him a new camera case, taking him to the movies, to dinner at the Life, and finally making love to him on their return home. The day had been perfect, and he wanted her own birthday to be that way for her.

Trai woke up that morning at 7:45, bolting awake when she realized it was nearly 8:00. She got up, smoothed her hair, and walked out into the kitchen. "Mark, why'd you let me sleep in?"

"Because it's your birthday, and you should get to sleep late."

"I don't want a big deal made out of this!" Trai insisted, even as he held a plate of French toast under her nose. "Eat."

"You made me breakfast? Mark, c'mon, I'm serious! I really don't want you to do this."

Mark put the plate down on the table and made her sit. He handed her a fork and knife. "Eat," he repeated.

Trai sighed, clearly hating that he'd done all this, and cut into her French toast. After a few bites, she looked up and begrudgingly admitted, "It's really good, but Mark, you didn't—"

Mark put his finger to her lips. "Shh. You know I wanted to. You did something special for me, and I wanted to do that for you."

"_Please _tell me you don't have anything else planned."

Mark smiled mischievously. "Can I take the Fifth?"

"Mark, did you spend a lot of money? Please say no."

"You don't need to know that, and you don't get to. This is my gift to you, because I love you and I want to do something special—and that means the dishes, too," he added, gently prying the dish from her hands as she stood. "Go shower and get dressed. I'm taking you out and I'm not telling you where…"

* * *

If the taxi driver thought it strange that Mark led a blindfolded Trai into the cab, he did not question, nor did he find it odd that Mark covered his girlfriend's ears when he gave the address.

For the fourth time, Trai tried to undo the blindfold; for the fourth time, Mark grabbed her hands, careful not to hurt her. "You'll see in a bit."

"I still don't see why you feel the need to celebrate the fact that I'm getting older," Trai said plainly.

"It's only a number. Besides, you look like a twenty-one-year-old."

Trai snorted. "Right. Okay. Good one."

Mark laced her fingers with his. "No matter what you say, you're gorgeous."

They arrived at the theater within the hour, and Mark paid the cab driver, smiling in anticipation of Trai's reaction. He was glad that he'd saved for months, also using some of his remaining _Buzzline_ cash. He wanted so much to do this for her.

He gently untied the blindfold for her as they stood outside the Imperial Theatre. "Here we are!"

Trai looked up and gasped, looking at him with incredulity. "Jesus _Christ_, Mark! _Les Mis?_ How the hell did you afford—?"

Mark silenced her with a kiss. "One rule about today," he murmured. "No questions."

Trai hugged him, kissed him back. "Thank you _so _much. I've wanted to see this for so long…"

The smile on her face made him happy, made him smile too. He ran his free hand over the material of the scarf she'd given him in February as he took her hand and led her into the theater.

From the first thing they saw—the words telling the audience that what they were looking at was the French prison Toulon in 1815—the two of them were entranced. They'd both read the novel, some years ago, but the musical was pretty amazing in itself. Trai laughingly admitted to a crush on Enjolras during intermission. Mark turned to her with a smile. "Like it?"

"I love it," Trai told him sincerely, kissing him. "And I love you for doing this for me. You really, really did not have to."

"Oh, stop. I wanted to; how many times do I have to tell you that? Baby, I just wanted you to be happy… and when I know you are, it makes me feel so much better."

He smiled again as he flicked through the Playbill and saw the name of one of the songs—"A Heart Full of Love." Cosette and Marius, the two young lovers, sang about how much they loved each other, and during the song he had looked over at Trai, only to find her looking to him, the both of them smiling.

The second act was even better than the first. Almost everyone in the audience found themselves crying more than once. Trai cried in particular at the end, when Valjean passed away after seeing Cosette and Marius for the last time. Everyone who stood and applauded during the bows had tears streaming down their cheeks.

Mark gently wiped away Trai's tears as they stood to leave the theater. "Was it too much?" he asked gently, knowing that death was still hard for her to face—she had been with Danny when he died, just as Cosette and Marius had been with Valjean, and he knew it had hit home for her.

Trai waved a hand. "I'm okay," she said softly. "It hurt, at first," she said as they left the theater and he wrapped his arm around her waist. "That's why I was crying so hard. But I know that… that he was glad I was there. Micah, me, my old friend Holly—I don't think I've mentioned her to you—we all tried to be there for him." She sighed. "I still miss him. And I know that he'd probably tell me not to."

Mark rubbed her shoulder. "He loved you. Just remember that."

* * *

_Trai's birthday three years before had not been a happy occasion. Perhaps her distaste for her birthday had started in adolescence, when the magic was gone from cake and presents. Or perhaps it had been born out of days like these, with all the bad memories that came with them. Trai had never quite figured it out._

_She was physically and emotionally exhausted. She'd spent all of the night before in the emergency room, and she positively hated hospitals—they made her nervous. The rehab center, where she was standing now, was just as good as one, with its waiting room filled; its beds occupied by silent, somber patients; and its visitors weary and upset._

_She hadn't visited Danny nearly as much as she should have. Part of it was because she lived in the City with Jason, not nearly as close as Micah and Holly, who'd stayed on in Bay Shore after college. Part of it was because she hated seeing her brother in so much pain. Part of it was because of the way she had to fight revulsion, nausea, and the terrible feeling of knowing her big brother was going to die every time she stepped through the doors to the Robert Vasey Rehabilitation Center._

_Trai had difficulty signing in, once she'd reached the front desk. The nurse behind it barely gave her a glance as she struggled to write with her arm in a sling. He'd been drunk the night before, had come after her with a bat and beat her, smashing her right arm, her good one. She'd waited until he passed out, drunk, and then walked innumerable blocks in the biting autumn cold. Her case, when she got to the E.R., was triaged as green—meaning she wasn't too severe of an injury, meaning she could wait. As a result, she'd spent six hellish hours in the place of her phobia._

_His beating had also given her an assortment of bruises. Those she had cleaned herself, not wanting to face the inevitable barrage of questions—who did this to you? Can we report him? Where do you live?_

_Trai could've given a simple answer to that last—"in hell."_

_She walked slowly to Danny's room, trying to figure out her excuse this time. She finally settled on saying she'd fallen down the stairs… surely he could buy that… it wasn't like she hadn't been clumsy as a kid…_

_Still, when she came down to Danny's room, she realized Micah and Holly were there, probably because of Trai's birthday being today. She swore mentally. _Shit! _Micah, Danny, Holly… they all knew her too well, and Danny was already suspicious, and did they know too, had he told them…?_

_Holly was the first to notice the sling. "Christ, Trai, what the hell happened?"_

_Trying to avoid the question, Trai weakly joked, "Jesus, Holls, don't wish a girl happy birthday…"_

_Holly winced, looking like she wanted to slap herself. "Fuck! I'm so sorry, Trai… It—seeing you… with Dan here, for a second it slipped my mind…" Danny and Holly were close, having been briefly involved in the past, and Trai knew that this was killing Holly. Still, she seemed determined not to let the matter drop. Holly gave her a careful hug and repeated, "When did this happen? How?"_

_"Last night… fell down the stairs…"_

_Micah and Holly exchanged a glance as Micah hugged Trai. They both knew that this very probably was not the case._

_Micah pulled away, looking into Trai's eyes. "Trai, if something's wrong, you know you could tell us, right?" Holly backed up this statement by putting a hand on Trai's shoulder; she'd known Trai for fourteen years and they were damn near family, in her eyes._

_"Of course," Trai nodded. "Of course. Yeah. Sure."_

_To her own ears, it wasn't convincing; she could only imagine how it sounded to them. Micah stiffly nodded to Danny's door. "I'm sure he wants to see you."_

_She started to go in, but stopped as Holly caught her wrist. "We'll take you out later," her best friend promised her softly. "Me and Micah."_

_Trai bit the inside of her cheek, wondering if the outing would turn into an interrogation, but mumbled an agreement and went into Danny's room._

_Her hands shook as she turned the doorknob. She hated, hated, hated seeing Danny like this. He'd been in and out of rehab since that Christmas she'd found him in the bathroom—he'd be pronounced clean and leave the center, only to suddenly remember that he had HIV, that he was going to die, and fall back into using. More than once, Micah had had to restrain his best friend, force him to realize that this wasn't good for him, that he was only hurting his family, his friends, himself._

_Danny was awake, watching some football game on TV, cheering as best he could with his wrists restrained, held by straps to the sides of the bed, so that he couldn't lift them much more than a few inches. He looked leaner, paler, and he'd lost some weight since she'd last seen him…_

Don't think about that… try to be happy… for him…

_She cleared her throat. "Hey, Jem," she said quietly._

_He looked up immediately. "Scout! Oh, God, it's good to see you! Hap_—_" In the excitement of seeing his baby sister on her birthday, he hadn't even noticed her arm at first. Now, his gaze hardened as he took in the cast and sling, and he looked up at his sister with a hard stare. "Christ, Trai, your arm…"_

_"Dan, it's nothing, I fell down the stairs, it's nothing_—"

_"When?" Danny demanded. She didn't answer until he repeated, more forcefully, "When?"_

_"Last night," Trai whispered._

_Danny's hands clenched the sheets beneath him. Whenever the hell he next got out, that fucker was going to fucking _pay_…_

_Only then did it occur to him that Trai's arm was bandaged and in a sling, that she couldn't possibly have done that herself. "And you went to the hospital?" She nodded, imperceptibly. "Scout, you hate hospitals… did… did someone do this to you?" he whispered, wishing she would look at him. "Jason?"_

_"Jason loves me," Trai whispered, lying through her teeth, even as she came to sit beside the one person she could never lie to. That, however, had changed in the past few years._

_Danny could feel his eyes watering. Fuck, this was hard. This was his baby sister, goddammit. He'd always been there to protect her, and now that he wasn't, shit was happening to her, serious shit…_

_"Trai…" He managed to grab her hand, holding it tenderly. "Trai… Scout… Tracy, whatever the hell you want me to call you, just fucking listen… just tell me if he's hurting you," he pleaded. "Please? Scout… please?"_

_"He's not," Trai said, her voice shaking with the effort to keep up the lie. "He's not hurting me. And you know what hurts more than a fucking broken arm right now? Sitting with you," she whispered, "and knowing that you're dying because of some stupid mistake…"_

_She'd started to cry. Danny pulled her into a careful embrace, holding her tightly. "Shh," he soothed, rocking her slowly. "Shh… Scout, Scout, I'm sorry… I'm trying, I promise…"_

_Trai cried for a long while. Finally she pulled away and whispered, "I—I should go…"_

_Danny wiped away her tears, not knowing what else to do for her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "You know I'm sorry."_

_Trai didn't answer. Trembling, she kissed him on the forehead and then left._

_Holly caught the distress on her friend's face as she left the room, and went after her. "Trai? Where're you going?"_

_"I can't go out, Holly," Trai whispered, not even turning to face her. "Not tonight. I just… I can't. Not tonight."_

_Holly sighed, not wanting to let her go, but finally whispered, "Okay," and made her way back to Micah._

_Danny couldn't look at them as they came in._

_"He's really hurting her," he whispered._

_For a long time, they discussed what to do, how to approach her, if they should tell anyone. They decided against this, and yet, after they left, Danny found his hand hovering over the phone, ready to call Angie._

_He let his hand drop to his side and closed his eyes, letting his head fall onto the pillows, his mind racing._

* * *

Mark cooked her dinner when they got home. He still remembered what she loved, and he'd asked his mother for advice on making her some of the Jewish food he knew that she liked. For a first attempt, he'd done fairly well.

Roger and Mimi stopped by to give Trai some gifts they'd bought her, and Trai thanked them with a smile, hugging the two of them. They'd gotten some books for her, a new notebook, small things since they knew she had insisted on it not being a big event.

She lay with Mark in bed after they'd made love, her head resting on his shoulder. Her gaze rested on the pictures on her nightstand—the picture of her and Mark they day of Mimi's birthday; her and Danny during a Christmas she'd visited him at Harvard; a worn photo of her, Holly, Danny, and Micah on a local beach, Robert Moses, when the girls were 18 and the boys 19.

Mark followed her gaze to the pictures. Noticing the one of her and her friends on the beach, he asked, "How old were you?"

"Eighteen," Trai said quietly. "Ten years ago. It was the night before I left for Dartmouth and Holly left for Ithaca."

"So you and Holly don't talk anymore?"

"We still do, but… I don't know. Couple years ago, we got into a huge fight. She was interrogating me about Jason, and I'd been having a rough week, and I just… broke. Took it out on her, started screaming at her. After that… it wasn't the same between us anymore. I said a lot of shit I shouldn't have. We try to act like nothing's wrong—I was the maid of honor at her wedding; she and I are bridesmaids in Micah and Erica's—but it's just too hard. I want to make up with her, but it's been so long."

Mark smoothed her hair. "I'm sure she forgives you, if it's been that long."

"I guess," Trai sighed. "I'll have to think about it. It's been a while since I've seen her—besides, she still lives in Bay Shore, and I don't go back there much anymore."

To change the subject, Mark asked, "Did you do that every year? The four of you on the beach?"

Trai nodded. "Every year. Last day before school. We would just lay there, talk, swim, screw around." She smiled a little. "I remember… the year I was sixteen, we were all just lying there, and Danny was, of course, talking about his sex life. His favorite topic." She rolled her eyes. "God, he was cocky. Anyway, Holly and I were making fun of him, and I said to the three of them that I was going to die a virgin. And I was so serious," she laughed. "No one was interested in me. So Holly told me that she was sure that in ten years, everything would change… and it did, when I think about it, for Dan and I…" She'd been being abused then; Danny had been in rehab. "I… I kinda miss back then."

"Honestly, I wouldn't go back to being a teenager if you paid me. I hated Scarsdale. Still do, kind of."

Trai nodded. "Bay Shore wasn't the greatest, but it's home, you know?"

"Yeah. I'm not that close to my family, but every so often it's nice to see them."

Trai rolled onto her side, pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts, a bit of a pointless gesture. "Your family… why do some of them just ignore you?"

Mark sighed. "Pretty much everyone was pulling for me to do something lucrative. Cindy, she lucked out and married a psychiatrist, so everyone loves her. But me, I didn't want to be a doctor or a lawyer. I wanted to film, so I dropped out of college. And then I met Roger and Collins… my family didn't exactly want me associating with a rockstar and a gay professor, so some of them don't talk to me."

Trai sighed. "That sucks."

Mark shrugged. "I'm used to it."

"You think if—Mark, if we get married, if we have a baby, will they even approve?"

"Baby… who cares? Honestly? I couldn't care less if they approve or not."

"I do," Trai said quietly.

Mark kissed her. "Baby, they don't matter. Not to me. Just let it go."

Trai reluctantly let the matter drop, and cuddled closer. Mark rested his chin on the top of her head, smoothing his hand down her pale, bare skin. "So you liked today?"

"I loved it," she murmured, kissing his neck, his chest, his shoulders. "It was amazing. The whole day was amazing."

Mark smiled. "You're completely amazing," he said softly. "You really are."

Trai smiled. "I love you."

"I love you too… and happy twenty-eighth."

"Y'know, this time next year, I'll probably look back at how much I hated my birthday and laugh…"

* * *

**A/N- 'Ello, chaps!**

**I'm sad to say that I've reached the end of the "happy" chapters… these next may not quite be what you expect. When you read the next chapter, I know some of you may be pissed, some of you may stop reading, and others of you may have picked up on my plan. I won't say I didn't warn you—there **_**have**_** been hints.**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Hehe, yes, Maureen and Joanne will get the baby. And I had fun working with Julia myself.**

**Isabelle- Hehe, thanks! Updated:)**

**Birdhearted- Thanks!**

**Tina101- My closest friend is actually adopted and I know that she would like to know her mother, so I kept that in mind as I wrote. I didn't want it to be one of those things where the mother never wants to see the baby, and I thought it would be sweeter if Maureen and Joanne kept Julia and Davey involved.**

**Readerfreak10- What can I say, real life intervened. But I'm glad you liked it!**

**Midnightpopcorn- I have been planning a story about the kids; if there's enough interest in it after I finish the sequel to this story, I'm definitely going for it!**

**Diva Actress- January 3****rd****. I was supposed to be born in April; when I was born I was 1 lb, 12 oz. Well, luckily I'm here today, perfectly happy and healthy, very obviously!**

**BohemianxChicaxo- Thanks!**

**Mark's Maureen- -sigh- Steph, one more time- my story! I control how it goes! And much as I hate the expression, it works better than others!**

**xxReDhEaDxx- How I love you, Lily, my darling, haha! Thanks!**

**TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010- Thank you! And thank you so much for putting me on your alerts and favorites!!**

**Next update coming soon, but like I said, it's not all going to be fun and games…**

**- Sally**


	18. Under The Weather

Chapter Eighteen  
Under The Weather

"Mark?"

Trai got up hurriedly from the kitchen table, despite her headache, which made the sudden movement dizzying. Mark had stumbled through the door, sobbing. He'd gone to Scarsdale to visit his mother, who'd called the evening before.

Mark slid to the floor, his back against the wall, curled almost into a ball, his head in his hands. Trai knelt down and gently pulled him into her arms so he could cry into her shoulder. "What's wrong?" she whispered, stroking his cheek.

"My mom," Mark managed. "S—she's in bad shape. Really bad. Trai…" he breathed in, trying to regain control. Trai just held him, rubbing his back.

Finally he whispered, "Her—her car went off the road… she almost bled out but she's—she's alive, for now, but they don't know if… if…"

Shocked, concerned for Mark, Trai pulled him closer, wordlessly trying to reassure him, knowing he probably had to be scared and confused. "Shh… shh… it's okay," she whispered, holding him tightly. "It'll be okay…"

"What if it's not?" he demanded tearfully. "What if she dies?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know, baby. But whatever happens, I'm here." In her arms, Mark shook, tears streaming down his face. "Shh," Trai whispered. "I'm here, I'm here…"

When Mark stopped crying he looked up at her and said hoarsely, "I'd ask you to c—come to the hospital b—but my family…"

"Look at me, Mark," Trai said gently. "Mark, your family can't make me desert you right now. I love you; nothing can change that. I want to—I _need_ to be there for you," she whispered. "I would never leave you to face this alone."

Mark nodded wordlessly, his face still buried in her shoulder. "You want to lay down?" Trai asked him softly, trying so hard to make him feel at least a bit better. Mark nodded again, and she helped him up, carefully leading him to the bedroom and lying down with him in bed. She gently stroked his hair. "You need anything?"

Mark shook his head and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too. Get some sleep, okay? We can go in the morning."

When his tears finally subsided, Mark fell asleep in her arms.

* * *

Ever since Danny's death, just the anticipation of going to a hospital was enough to make Trai sick. The next morning, Trai carefully got up, not wanting to wake Mark, and made some coffee to try and help ease her nausea. Still, she wondered if she was coming down with something; she hadn't been feeling well for the past few days. 

She leaned against the window, staring out at the bleak gray sky. It was the middle of October, and the weather in the City was horrible. It had been raining on and off for the past week or so.

Mark got up about an hour after she did. He looked at least somewhat better than he had the day before. She poured him a cup of coffee and gave him a hug, knowing he had to be scared.

"You gonna be okay?" she asked him softly.

"I don't know," Mark said quietly. "I really don't know."

"I'm right here," Trai assured him. "I'm right with you the whole time."

Mark nodded and managed, "I'll go get ready…"

Trai nodded and pulled out of the embrace. She kissed him on the forehead gently and went into the bedroom with him to go get changed.

They arrived at the hospital at ten o'clock. Mark was nervous, his stomach in knots. Trai remembered feeling the same way before going to see Danny. When Mark realized that his father and Cindy were there as well, he whispered, "Trai, you really don't…"

"Shh… I'm staying," Trai whispered.

Mark swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and managed to take a few steps towards his father and Cindy. Trai kept her arm around his shoulder, and he leaned into her for support. Despite her trying to comfort Mark, the hospital still freaked her out. She shifted a little uncomfortably but held Mark close.

Mark's hand once more groped for Trai's. She took it and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "C'mon, honey. You're doing great."

Samuel spotted his son coming and leapt up, relieved. "Son," he breathed, giving Mark a tight hug. Mark tried valiantly not to cry.

Cindy stood as well and hugged her brother. "I'm glad you're here," she told him softly.

Trai stood back watching, sympathy and pain clear in her eyes. She shifted her weight again, from both uneasiness and her persistent nausea. Since Passover, neither Mark nor Trai was entirely comfortable with Samuel and Cindy. Mr. Cohen's opinion had not changed in the slightest—his gaze grew stormy as he noticed Trai. Mark pulled out of his sister's embrace and returned to Trai.

"I see you've brought your little sex toy with you," Samuel remarked flatly.

Trai looked as if she'd been slapped. Mark, himself, was shocked. He swiped furiously at the tears building behind his glasses. "Dad, she's not my—"

"Don't even fucking start. I saw you both at the Seder. You're sleeping together."

Mark gave Trai's hand a squeeze this time. _I can handle this_, he wanted to tell her. He could tell from the way Trai's palms were sweating that she was uneasy.

"Dad, you have to admit, you weren't welcoming at the Seder," Mark snapped. "Trai and I were upset—"

"Upset enough to end up naked in the same bed—_your_ bed, the one _your mother and I_ bought for you—the next morning?"

"Don't even start with me! Mom is _dying_ and all you can do is berate me?!"

"I'm _berating_ you for _daring_ to bring your _whore_ to your mother's deathbed!" Mr. Cohen shouted furiously.

Guilt coursing through her, heedless of the nurses and staff intervening to tell Mark and Samuel to stop yelling, Trai choked and ran. Mark turned to run after her, but didn't, knowing she'd want to be alone, knowing his mother's present condition. He honestly didn't blame her for running.

Mark turned back to his father. His voice low and strained, he demanded, "_Never_ talk like that to her. She is the woman I love and if you can't accept that, I refuse to be a part of this family. She has _never_ done anything to you!"

"Son, you deserve better than her."

"Since when do you care about me? When did you ever do a fucking thing for me? After I moved to the City, you decided to forget I existed. So what if I made friends? So what if I decided to become a filmmaker? So what if _I fell in love?_ None of that mattered to you, Dad, and I don't see why you should fucking intervene now!"

Mr. Cohen turned away. "Either break up with her, or walk."

Mark refused to listen.

He pulled off his glasses, brushed furiously at his eyes, and headed in the direction Trai had gone.

* * *

He found her by the coffee machine, blankly contemplating her reflection in the muddy liquid, the Styrofoam cup held in both hands. Black, as always. 

"Hey, baby," Mark said softly, sitting down and resisting the urge to put his arm around her, knowing she probably didn't want him to touch her.

Her voice was hollow as she whispered, "Mark, I can leave. If you want me to, I'll leave."

"No. No. _Please_. Trai, I need you… please… I can't do this alone…"

"I understand that, but your family…"

"Fuck them. Fuck my father and Cindy. We don't need them. They don't matter. Please, Trai… please… all that matters to me is you," Mark whispered. "Please… I'm begging you… _please_ stay…"

Trai finally nodded and got up, following him to Jane's room.

Jane was awake. She was lying in bed, the IV needle in her hand dripping into her the drugs that were keeping her out of pain.

"Mark." She smiled as she saw him. "Come here."

Mark swallowed hard, going to his mother's bedside and hugging her close, being careful not to hurt her. "Hey, Mom," he said shakily.

Jane looked up and saw Trai standing in the doorway. She smiled. "Tracy. It's nice to see you."

Trai gave a weak smile and came to stand next to Mark. "The same to you. I just wish the circumstances were better."

"Sit." Jane motioned her son and his girlfriend into the chairs by her bed. "How are you two?"

"I've been better," Mark said quietly. Trai nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jane said gently. "But don't worry about me."

"I can't help it, Mom. I can't."

"It'll be fine, Mark. I'll be fine."

Mark breathed out a shaky breath. Trai rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "Promise to keep calling?" Mark managed, his voice strained. He'd never been a fan of his mother's many phone calls, but he couldn't stand the thought of being without them.

"I will," Jane promised. She noticed how upset Mark was getting and said gently, "Go, Mark. You can come back in a few days."

Mark slowly nodded. Rising, he kissed his mother on the forehead. Trai started to get up, but Mrs. Cohen said softly, "Tracy, can I speak to you alone, if you wouldn't mind?"

Surprised, Trai slowly nodded and sat back down. Mark left the room with tears streaming down his face.

Jane took Trai's hand, the tape holding the IV needle rough against Trai's palm. "I want to thank you, Tracy."

"I should be thanking you. You were very welcoming to me in April… when really, given the circumstances, you shouldn't have been."

Jane sighed. "I'm sorry about Samuel and Cindy," she said, her tone sincere. "And that's nonsense… I had every reason to welcome you. Tracy, you've made Mark the happiest I've seen him in a long time. I see that you're there for him, and I know that he's been there for you." She squeezed Trai's hand. "I thank you for that. And I'm proud to say that I would love to consider you my daughter."

Shocked, touched, Trai managed, "Mrs. Cohen—"

"Call me Jane," Mrs. Cohen said softly. "And I mean what I said. I know how much you mean to Mark, and I can tell that you'll be with each other for a long time. Thank you," she whispered.

Trai fought back tears. "You're welcome."

* * *

Trai held Mark's hand as they made their way up to the loft. She unlocked the door and they went inside, still holding hands. 

Suddenly, without warning, Trai let go of Mark's hand and sank onto the couch, holding her head in her hands.

"Trai?" Suddenly concerned, Mark put his hand on her knee.

"It's nothing. I'm fine. Just got a little dizzy," Trai assured him. She leaned in and kissed him. "Go lie down, okay? I'll be in soon."

Mark nodded and kissed her again, going into the bedroom. Trai went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She sat on the floor for a few minutes before she leaned forward and threw up.

She leaned back heavily against the sink, breathing hard, still nauseous. Why was she so sick all of a sudden?

And then it hit her.

She slowly shut her eyes and counted back.

"Oh, shit," she said weakly. "Oh, _fuck_…"

She went into the bedroom to tell Mark she needed to go out, grabbing her key to the loft. Mark squinted up at her. "Where're you going?"

"Shopping," Trai murmured, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Want me to come? I can—"

"No!" Trai said quickly. Mark looked a little concerned at the suddenness of her outburst, and she quickly covered, "No, I, uh… tampons," she finished lamely, "I need tampons." No way would he want to help her with that.

Mark nodded slowly. "Be safe, okay?" It was getting late.

"I will," Trai promised, and left the loft.

* * *

The next morning, Trai carefully got out of bed and went into her room. She pulled a bag from under her bed and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. 

Petrified and nauseous, her hands shook as she pushed her sweaty hair back from her face and drew the box from its bag.

A pregnancy test.

The math worked out, and Trai couldn't come up with any other reasons as to why she'd been feeling so sick. Still, she was terrified. This was _not_ supposed to happen. Not now. _Not now._

Her head pounding, her mind reeling as she considered the possibilities and options, Trai sat on the closed lid of the toilet bowl for fifteen agonizing minutes, her eyes shut tightly, until her watch went off.

Trai slowly opened her eyes, swallowing hard, trying not to be sick. She hoped against hope that she wouldn't see what she knew she was going to.

Finally, she turned over the test.

Two pink lines.

It was positive.

_Fuck!_

Trai hurriedly threw the test in the trash and left the bathroom, sinking down onto the couch, trying hard not to break down in tears. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to them. Not now. With everything going on, with them barely having any money, with his family hating her…

She took a breath and tried to compose herself. She wasn't going to tell Mark just yet. She didn't even know if she would tell him at all.

Mark got up shortly after. He noticed she was acting a little strange all through breakfast, but chalked it up to residual stress from seeing his family. Glancing at the clock, he found it was nine AM and told her, "I'll be gone soon; I'm going out for groceries. Do you need anything?"

Trai shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I'm going to go down to see Roger later."

"Okay. See you later, then?"

Trai nodded, a little weakly. "Love you," she said softly, and kissed him.

"Love you too."

* * *

After showering and changing into jeans and a t-shirt to at least make herself look like less of a nervous wreck, Trai slowly went down the stairs and pushed open the door to Roger's loft. "Roger?" 

Roger came out from his and Mimi's bedroom, toweling his hair dry. Mimi had gone out with Lauren; Roger was dressed comfortably in sweats and an old Beatles t-shirt. "Hey, honey." He smiled and hugged her in greeting. On pulling away, he noticed the look on her face and realized that something was wrong. He led her to the couch and sat her down. "Talk."

"How did you know…?" Trai asked, at a loss, trying to stall.

"It's all over your face," Roger said gently, taking a better look at her. _Has she been crying?_

Trai put her head in her hands. Her breathing was shallow, like she was hyperventilating, trying not to panic. Roger put his hand on her shoulder, really concerned now.

Trai swallowed hard and whispered, "I'm pregnant."

For a minute or two, Roger was speechless. He gaped at her, unable to sort out all the emotions that seemed to flood him at once. Happiness for Trai and Mark. Wonder about why Trai was panicking. Concern for her.

"Well," he said finally, "I'm not going to ask who the father is, since I have no doubt of that, and frankly because we've heard it proven many times since January. Am I the first person you've told?"

Trai nodded. Her breathing still sounded strange. "I'm sorry… I didn't know who else to come to…"

"It's okay," Roger said gently. "How long have you known?"

"I only took the test this morning… I—I figured it out last night; I've been feeling sick for the last couple weeks… I—I don't want to tell Mark; I'm really freaking out here…"

"Why don't you want to tell him?" Roger asked, even more concerned now. "Is everything okay?"

Trai shook her head. "Rog, I—I think… I think I should get an abortion."

Shocked, Roger looked at her and asked, "Why? Why would you want to…?"

Trai looked away. "I love Mark. I do. And we decided we want kids, but only after we're married. After you guys had Lauren we discussed it, and we decided we weren't ready. We're still not.

"Rog, his family hates me. When we went to see his mother in the hospital, his dad called me his sex toy! My parents are still getting over Danny. He and I have almost no money. We live in an industrial loft with no heat and electricity that barely works on a good day. A baby does _not_ fit into this equation."

"Trai. Trai, look at me. Please look at me."

Trai finally looked up at him. Her face was streaked with tears.

"Trai, Mark loves you. You love him. I know that both of you haven't felt that for anyone else like you feel it for each other. And I also know that Mark has wanted kids for ages. No matter what he said, Trai, this will make him _so _happy. I can assure you, Trai… it's the greatest feeling in the world."

Trai nodded slowly. "I—I think I'll… I think I'll talk to him…"

Roger nodded. "That's a girl," he said softly. Still, a look at her face made him realize that she was extremely pale. "You feeling okay?"

Trai shook her head. "I feel really sick," she whispered.

"Here." Roger got up and helped her to her feet, helping her walk to the bathroom. He stayed with her, holding her hair back and rubbing her back as she got sick, doing exactly what he'd done for Mimi. "Easy… just let it out; it's okay… easy…"

Trai finally leaned heavily against the sink, her hand pressed to her head, her eyes shut tightly. "I'm going to kill Mark for this," she joked weakly.

"You want to go wait for him?" Roger asked. Trai nodded and slowly got up.

"I can be there when you tell him," Roger offered, knowing that she still had to be scared even though she'd resolved to talk to him.

Gratefully, Trai nodded and gave him a quick hug. "He's out for groceries; should be back soon."

They left the loft and started to go back upstairs. About halfway up Trai stopped, closing her eyes tightly against a sudden sharp pain, pressing her hand to her stomach. "Mmm…"

"Trai?" Roger stopped just behind her. "Trai, what is it?"

Trai tried to take another step and stumbled, her breathing suddenly shaky. Roger caught her, holding her so she wouldn't fall, knowing instinctively that something was very, very wrong.

"Trai. Trai, talk to me," he urged. "Are you in pain? What hurts?"

Trai didn't answer. Her breathing slackened as she suddenly went limp in his arms, unconscious.

Roger quickly looked her over, suddenly halting when he realized, even more terrified now, that there was blood on the legs of her jeans.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "Oh my god…"

Quickly putting his arm under her knees, his other supporting her back, Roger rushed down the stairs and carried his best friend's girlfriend to the hospital.

* * *

**A/N- Okay. Like I said, this may cause some of you to be angry with me. I will ask that you don't stop reading—it may take a while, but there could be a happy ending. This was planned from the beginning and I have been alluding to it.**

**Mark and Trai's discussions about kids were meant as foreshadowing, as was Mimi's mention to Trai in Chapter 11 that she was afraid of miscarrying. I **_**do**_** have the rest of this story written, and again, some of you may not like it. But, for those of you that stick with me, thanks.**

**"Under The Weather" is a song by KT Tunstall.**

**Grapetheape- Aww, thank you! I love hearing that.**

**Mark's Maureen- Well, didn't I tell you they make a baby? –reconsiders- Okay, not the most appropriate response right now.**

**ForLoveOrMoney- Don't worry, I know that feeling, haha. Thanks though! I'm glad you like it.**

**Readerfreak10- Thanks!**

**Diva Actress- Thanks!! And haha, that's so funny.**

**Midnightpopcorn- Thanks!**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Um… the end of this chapter would be the beginning of the "plan." Most of the hints consisted of Mark and Trai discussing children, and a couple small ones beyond that. As far as I know I never specified what happened to Jason, but I went back and checked and saw that I had the cops collect evidence in Ch 5, so I'm putting out the word that Jason's in jail, haha.**

**Next update soon because I know some of you will be asking for it. Have a great day, my loves!**

**- Sally**


	19. Far Away

Chapter Nineteen  
Far Away

"Mark!"

Mark heard Roger calling him as he burst through the doors of Alphabet General. He rushed over to Roger and demanded, "What is it? What happened to her? _What's wrong?_"

It had taken almost two hours to get a hold of Mark. Shopping had taken longer than he'd anticipated, and he'd returned home nearly an hour and a half after Roger had gotten Trai to the hospital, only to find a message on his answering machine from Roger telling him to come to the hospital and come quickly, that something was wrong with Trai.

"Mark, I really think you should sit down," Roger said reasonably, knowing that what he had to tell him would be hard to hear. He didn't know how Mark would take it.

"You have to tell me," Mark pleaded. Roger could see he was close to crying. "Roger… Goddammit, Rog, she's the best thing to ever happen to me… is she hurt? Is she going to be okay?"

Roger put his hand on Mark's shoulder. He had to breathe for a second—it was hard for him to have to say it.

"Mark… oh, God, Mark, I'm so, so sorry… Mark, she's miscarrying."

Mark's mouth went dry, and he found that he couldn't speak. His knees gave out, and Roger helped him into a chair, putting his arm around him.

"I—I… oh my God…" Mark managed hoarsely. "She… she was pregnant?" he whispered, in disbelief.

Roger nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly. "She wasn't sure if you wanted to keep it… she thought that you wouldn't, because of your family, the money situation, because you guys aren't married… she was scared, and she came to me to ask what I thought you'd say. I told her you'd want to keep it." He breathed in slowly. "We started to go upstairs to wait for you, but… but… she passed out, and I had to carry her here."

Mark took in a shuddery breath. "Why would she think I wouldn't…? I don't… I can't…"

Roger kept his arm around him, knowing Mark had to be upset, scared, confused. He'd never been through this, had never thought he would have to. All he could do was try to keep Mark calm.

Finally, the obstetrician emerged from Trai's room. "Mr. Davis?" she asked Roger. "You're the one who brought her in?"

Roger nodded, a little shakily. "He's the father," he said quietly, nodding to Mark. "I'm her… brother," he added, barely hesitating. Trai was part of their family.

The doctor nodded and sat down on a table in front of them. "I'm Amy Wilson; I just treated Tracy," she said quietly. "She did have a miscarriage. It's no one's fault—her body was under a lot of stress, and the pregnancy terminated. These things… they happen," she sighed. "Unfortunately. She's a little worn out right now—she's still recovering; on some medication for the pain—but if you want to see her, you can." She put a hand, very gently, on Mark's knee. "This will be difficult for both of you, but just remember… you're not alone," she said quietly.

Mark quietly asked what room Trai was in; Dr. Wilson pointed him to it. As she left, Mark slowly got up and walked to the room. He looked through the glass in the door at Trai, who was lying in her bed, staring out the window.

Was it his fault? He tried to think about it. The doctor had said that she'd been under stress. Had seeing his family done it? Or was it something else? Roger had said she had been thinking about not keeping the baby.

Mark was struck with a sudden, terrible thought—this was his fault. It had to be. It was his fault for making her think that he wouldn't want to keep the baby, his fault for bringing her with him to the hospital, his fault for getting her pregnant…

He shut his eyes and leaned against the wall, fighting tears.

_This wasn't supposed to happen…_

Mark slowly took a breath, his hands trembling.

He pushed open the door to Trai's room.

* * *

Mid-October rain pelted the window. Trai lay curled up in bed, her eyes red from crying, dazed from the pain she'd been through earlier and the drugs they'd given her after the procedure. As she heard the door open and Mark's quiet footsteps, she closed her eyes. More tears streaked her face.

Mark wordlessly sat on the bed, wrapping his arms around her, cradling her protectively. Trai rested her head against his chest, shakily inhaling the scent of his sweater—city air, from biking the whole way to the hospital; the antisepticky smell of the hospital; the smell of the loft. She took comfort in his solidarity, though she knew that he, too, was about to break.

Mark held her close, kissing the top of her head. Finally Trai whispered, "I—I don't understand… I don't get it…"

"What don't you understand?" Mark whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"I… I don't get how… how I only knew for a few hours a—and now it… fuck, Mark, it feels like something's missing… Mark…"

She broke down sobbing. Mark held her tightly, soothing her as she cried and screamed into his chest, hitting him in her pain and frustration, not to hurt him. Her tears soaked his sweater as Mark rocked her slowly, kissing the top of her head. Seeing her in so much pain, knowing he was part of its cause, Mark started to cry too, wet, heaving sobs, holding her closer.

"T—Trai?" he managed, hoarsely.

Trai looked up, tears streaming down her face.

"I would've wanted to keep it," Mark whispered, touching her cheek.

The realization of what they could have had seemed to strike them both at once, and Trai closed her eyes, inhaling shakily. "It's not fair! Why me? Why us, Mark?… Why _us_?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Mark whispered, holding her. "I don't know."

He held her for a long time, in silence, as they both watched the rain. Finally, Mark very gently coerced Trai to sleep. She pleaded with him to stay. He promised that he wouldn't leave, and held her in his arms as she fell asleep. After another hour or so, he fell asleep himself.

The hours passed in dreamless darkness.

* * *

Mark woke the next morning to Trai shifting slightly against him. He groggily opened his eyes and found he was still lying with Trai in bed, holding her. Mrs. Buscemi was softly stroking Trai's hair.

"Mrs. Buscemi?" he asked, a little groggily. "How did you…?"

"Your friend Roger called me," Mrs. Buscemi told him softly. "Found the number in her wallet."

Mark carefully sat up, Trai's head resting in his lap. "Is she okay?" he asked softly.

"She slept soundly," Mrs. Buscemi told him. "I'm just… concerned. For her. For you."

Mark smoothed Trai's hair, watched the steadiness of her breathing. "I love her," he told Roseanna quietly. "I love her more than I've ever loved anyone in my life."

Roseanna squeezed his shoulder. "You are, truly, everything to her," she told him gently. "Without you, I doubt she would have handled losing Danny as well as she has."

"I'm sorry," Mark said quietly. "If… if this came as a shock… if you don't approve…"

Roseanna shook her head. "No. No… I understand the feeling… I lost a child when I was in college," she admitted. "Before I met Tracy's father. My boyfriend left me after I found out; my roommate ended up getting me to the doctor a few days later." She watched her daughter and sighed, regretfully. "I never pictured this happening to Trai."

She looked up at Mark and put her hand on his. "Mark, I know that right now it seems impossible that you'll get past this. But I know that you and Trai will probably have more children eventually, and even though you'll always mourn the one that could have been, it hurts less over time."

"Thank you, Mrs. Buscemi," Mark said quietly. "Really… thank you…"

"If you ever need to talk, you can call," Mrs. Buscemi assured him. "Just… Mark… take care of my daughter, and yourself?"

"I will," Mark promised softly. "I will."

Mrs. Buscemi left to wait outside, knowing Trai would want to talk to her later. Making sure Trai was still asleep, Mark took the phone from the bedside and slowly sat in a chair across the room, closing his eyes and finally dialing the number to the hospital where his mother was.

They connected him with her room after a seemingly unendurable silence. In every moment Mark's mind wasn't occupied with some meaningless task, he thought of something else. If she hadn't lost the baby, where would they be right now? Would they have been happy, waking up to each other? Would they have started making plans…?

Finally, he heard his mother's voice. "Hello?"

Mark clutched the phone like a lifeline. His voice weak, he managed, "M—Mom…"

"Mark? Mark, honey… what's wrong? You sound upset." There was concern in his mother's voice, and he knew that not even her present condition would stop her from worrying about him. "Honey, did something happen?"

"Trai's in the hospital," he told his mother, his voice shaking. "I'm with her now… she's asleep…"

"She's in the hospital?" Jane's concern immediately multiplied. "What happened? Is she all right?"

_No, she's not all right. I'm not all right._

"She lost our baby," Mark whispered, and his voice caught. He could say no more.

* * *

Trai was discharged that afternoon. Mark and Roger hailed a cab and the three of them returned to the loft.

Talking to his mother had at least made him feel a little better, even though he was still upset. His mother had been shocked, but had offered her condolences and comfort. Trai had talked to Mrs. Buscemi, briefly, before she told her mother that it hurt too much to think about it, and had asked her if she could leave. Though concerned, Mrs. Buscemi had kindly obliged, and promised to call.

When they got up the stairs and into the loft, Trai had to lie down, still a little hazy from pain and residual shock. Roger quietly excused himself, promising Trai softly that he'd be up to see her later. Mark sat on the bed next to Trai. "Do you need anything?" he prodded softly.

"Tea? Honey? Please?" Trai whispered. Mark nodded and kissed her cheek. He made her a cup of tea and squirted in the honey, slicing an orange and putting it on a plate, something that he knew she liked. She gave him a watery smile and sipped, exhausted, at the tea.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Mark stroked her arm, holding her close. "Why are you sorry?"

"It was my fault… I—I didn't think you'd want to—to keep it… and then I lost it… it feels like you should be blaming me…"

"Baby," Mark said quietly, concerned as Trai buried her face in her hands. "Baby, none of this is your fault. It never will be. This baby wasn't meant to be." He pulled her into his arms. "Never, never blame yourself," he whispered.

"Do you hate me?" Trai managed.

"Oh, god… oh, god, no, Trai… never," Mark whispered into her ear, holding her tighter. "Why would you think that?"

"I didn't think you'd want to keep it, Mark! I almost aborted our baby… and now… now… God, Mark, if you want to leave me…"

She didn't finish. Shocked, feeling so completely horrible that she even thought that, Mark pulled her face to his. "Trai," he whispered, holding her face in his hands gently. "Trai, I would never leave you. I could never hate you. I will never, never stop loving you."

Trai curled up against him. "C—can we name her Grace?" she whispered shakily. "My mom… she told me she named the one she lost…"

Mark stroked her cheek. "It's perfect," he managed, close to tears.

It was giving their loss a name, a face.

And it only made it worse.

* * *

The next night Trai woke up sobbing.

Roused by her sudden bolting awake, Mark took one look at her and pulled her into his arms. "Baby? What is it?"

She didn't say anything, merely wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed. "Shh…" he soothed. "Shh…"

When she'd calmed somewhat, he whispered, "Bad dream?"

Trai nodded. "D and C," she managed. Unsure of what she meant, Mark asked softly, "What?"

Her eyes red from crying, Trai whispered, "I passed out on the stairs… woke up a little when Roger carried me… they—they put me under sedation and did a D and C so they could complete the miscarriage…" She closed her eyes tightly. "God, Mark, I knew the whole time…" she cried weakly.

Seeing her like this, Mark could swear he felt his heart break. She looked so lost, so vulnerable. Mark knew how much this was killing her—he could feel it, too.

"Oh, honey… oh, Trai, baby, I'm so, so sorry," he whispered, pulling her closer.

"I want my brother… I want Grace!" Trai sobbed. "This isn't fair! It's not fucking _fair_!"

Mark held her, not knowing what to say. He knew she missed her brother terribly, like he missed Angel.

"Mark, I need him!" she cried, shaking in his arms.

"Shh," Mark whispered. "Shh…" He wanted so badly for her to be okay again. He couldn't stand seeing her in so much pain.

"I love you," he whispered. "And I know that you're hurting… I am too. But we can get through this, Trai… I promise you we can get through this… you've been through so much worse than this and you're so strong…"

"I want our baby, Mark," she whispered, numbly.

"I know," Mark whispered. "I know."

* * *

The next few days and nights were hard. Each of them no longer knew what to say to the other. They knew what they'd lost—what they didn't know was how to come back from it.

Mark found himself, more often than not, turning back to his camera, just as he'd done after Angel's death. _"Mark hides in his work,"_ Roger had once accused him during a tirade. And maybe he did, but it was the only way he knew how to block out the pain he refused to let himself feel—the pain of knowing that he and his girlfriend were inches away from losing each other completely. The pain of losing Grace.

Trai, meanwhile, had almost no escape. She tried, more than once, talking to Roger, but Lauren's presence constantly reminded her of what she'd lost. As much as she talked to her mother, she couldn't help but feel that her mother's loss had been more than thirty years ago—that she couldn't possibly remember how Trai was feeling now. She started, once more, to bury herself in books and her work.

A day passed, then two, with nothing said between them. Mark left after dinner to go film in the park and didn't return until it was almost midnight. He found Trai asleep on the couch, a copy of _The Catcher in the Rye_ lying on the coffee table. He remembered Angie's words from months earlier—_"_The Bell Jar _and _The Catcher in the Rye_—those are your warning signs."_

The loft was cold, and Trai was shivering. Mark took the old afghan they kept on the couch and covered her with it, gently, not wanting to wake her. He was about to walk away when he lingered, kneeling down by the couch and very gently stroking her hair.

One afternoon, as Mark distracted himself with editing and Trai read her book, Roger came and knocked on the door, trailed by Mimi, who was carrying Lauren.

"Maureen just called," he told them. "Julia just had the baby. They're having a celebration at Villa Italia after we meet them at the hospital. They… they wanted to know if you guys would come."

"Sure," Mark agreed, not even glancing at Trai for confirmation. He got up, grabbing his coat and handing Trai hers. She took it without a word.

Roger noticed her mood and motioned Mark to go ahead with Mimi and Lauren. He sat down with Trai and said gently, "Trai, you don't have to come."

"It doesn't matter if I do or if I don't," Trai whispered. "Either way I see you and Mimi with Lauren, and now Maureen and Joanne with Rachel… it's just going to be there, constantly, until I can get over it…"

"They know it's tough for you," Roger told her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "They told me to tell you that they'd understand if you don't come."

"Mark's going," Trai said quietly. "He's obviously fine, so I should be, too."

Roger could detect the barest hint of bitterness, tinged with her grief, in her voice. "Trai, this hurts him too," he said softly. "Mark's just… he deals with his emotions differently… he tends to hide how he's really feeling with these things. He might look fine, but trust me… this is killing him too."

"Let's just go," Trai whispered. "I'll go."

Roger stood and helped her with her coat, even though she insisted she was fine. Gently putting an arm around her shoulders, Roger led her from the loft.

* * *

**A/N- I'm a tad discouraged by the lack of reviews, but regardless, I'm going to continue to update. Like I said, there **_**is**_** a happy ending, but it might take a while to get there. I guess I could say have faith in me?**

"**Far Away" is a song by Nickelback, one of my favorites.**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- You're welcome. I knew that some people might've been confused.**

**Diva Actress- I had the miscarriage planned from the beginning, and I did a lot of research into the causes and the effects on the mother and father. Trai won't be extraordinarily depressed, but I'm not saying she'll be happy, either. It'll take a bit of time for recovery.**

**Isabelle- Thanks. I like cliff-hangers :)**

**Readerfreak10- I take it you were one of the people caught by surprise…**

**Midnightpopcorn- Well, here's your update!**

**Tina101- Again, I've had this planned since the beginning, but, as I will keep repeating, there **_**is**_** a happy ending to all this. And that may involve kids in the future.**

**Again, if you've been with me for a while here, I ask that you please don't stop if you're dissatisfied with the plot. If you do, I can't stop you, but if you don't, you'll see it through to the end, which isn't that far off (Chapter Twenty-Four). Have a wonderful day, my darlings.**

**- Sally**


	20. Breathe

Chapter Twenty  
Breathe (2 AM)

A week after the party, Maureen was up with Rachel when she got the call. She balanced the baby on her hip and picked up the phone quickly so it wouldn't bother Joanne. "Hello?"

"Mo? It's me," said a quiet voice on the other end. It was Trai. Her voice was broken, lost. Maureen had seen the expression on Trai's face at the party they'd had after Julia's delivery—like she wanted to be anywhere but there. She'd seen Trai's heartbroken expression as she watched Roger and Mimi with Lauren.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" Maureen asked, concerned. She checked the clock—it was a quarter to two in the morning. "Do you need me to come by the loft?"

"No, I… I don't want to wake Mark."

They were still together, at least. It had been about two weeks since the miscarriage, and even though they were still living together, Maureen knew that things probably weren't going well if Trai sounded so upset.

"I just… I needed to talk to someone…" she whispered. "You're the only one that's been in a relationship with Mark so I called you…"

"Shh… shh, sweetie, calm down a bit," Maureen said softly. Trai was close to crying. "What did you want to ask me?"

"I need your advice," she whispered. "I… I don't think I feel anything anymore. For him… for _anything_. I just… I don't even know if I still love him and I don't know _why_… it's not his fault that I miscarried; it's mine… I just feel like everything that happened in December and January was a fluke…"

"It wasn't a fluke, Trai," Maureen told her softly. "You love him. I _know_ that you do. No matter what you go through… Trai… I know how upset you are right now. Actually, no, no I don't, and I shouldn't say that. But still… losing the baby wasn't your fault, Trai. It's no one's fault—not yours, not Mark's. You love him, and no matter what you go through, that won't change."

Trai stayed quiet for a few minutes, taking it in. Still, Maureen caught the sounds of her choking back tears. "What is it?" Maureen asked her again, concerned.

"The baby," she said quietly, and Maureen heard the tears in her voice. "For the past two weeks I just… I can't get it out of my head… I didn't even _know_ I was pregnant until that morning and I just lost it so fast… Maureen… this is _killing _me…"

"Shh… shh…" Maureen soothed as best she could without being there. "Trai… I know this might sound like you can't handle it on your own, and I don't mean it that way… but have you considered a psychologist or a counselor or something? Or maybe Life Support?"

"If I go… can… can you come with me? I… I don't want to be alone, I _can't_… and without Mark I have no one…"

"I'll go with you," Maureen assured her softly. "I'll come. There's a meeting later today. We'll go then."

"Okay," Trai whispered, her voice shaky. "Maureen… just… thanks…"

"No problem, sweetheart," Maureen told her gently. She hung up.

* * *

Maureen gently took Trai's hand as they stood outside the community center where the Life Support meetings were held. Trai was losing her nerve, she could tell.

"C'mon, Trai," Maureen encouraged her gently. She wished that Mark were here, that he hadn't deserted Trai in her grief. Much as she wanted to help Trai, she needed Mark, and badly. Maureen put her arm around her shoulders. Maureen was being careful with her, gentle. She was afraid that if she pushed too hard, Trai would fall apart. "You can do this; it's okay. They can help."

She nodded finally, and Maureen led her in slowly. She had her eyes closed the entire time, trembling as she huddled into Maureen and Maureen kept her arm around her. Trai was so close to a breakdown that it frightened her. _Why had Mark deserted her at a time like this?_

The other members all watched as they came in, their eyes on Trai as Maureen helped her walk. She could tell that Mark or someone had already told them about the miscarriage. From the accusing glares they gave Trai, she could also tell that they thought it was her fault. Facing the glares and cruel judgment, Trai nearly lost it. Maureen tightened her hold on her arm, silently reminding her, _You need this._ She calmed a little and didn't bolt.

They introduced themselves to the other members, listened to their stories and problems. Finally Paul looked at Trai. "Trai?" he asked, his voice a mirror of Maureen's own hours before on the phone—soft, gentle, careful.

Maureen squeezed her hand gently. Her voice trembling, Trai began:

"Some of you… some of you may remember that I started dating Mark in January. I… I can't be sure exactly what brought us together but I _do_ know that it happened under bad circumstances… when we first me my brother was dying and my boyfriend was abusing me. Sometimes I think that I just fell in love with Mark because… I wanted something physical… something that wasn't forced.

"About two weeks ago I found out I was pregnant," she said softly. Her voice almost broke. "It was a shock to me, but not totally unexpected… I didn't say anything to Mark because I didn't know how he'd react… opposed as I was to the process I thought getting an abortion was an option I should consider. But I…" She had to take a slow breath as tears started to fall down her cheeks. "I miscarried," she managed finally, in a near-whisper. "Mark came to me afterwards and said he would've wanted to keep it… we're still living together but we've barely talked… he has his camera but whenever I try to write I can't find any words… I am _killing_ myself over this… I don't even know if I still love him…"

At a loss, unsure of what to say, most of the others just watched Trai cry. A few offered a murmur of comfort or a sympathetic gaze. Finally, Paul got Trai to look at him.

"This isn't your fault," Paul told her softly. "Trai… I know that right now you're blaming yourself. You're rationalizing this and asking yourself what you could have done to stop what happened. But it's not going to help you, Trai. It's not going to bring back the child you lost. You can't change the past… no one can," he said softly. "And as for Mark… you still love him. The only reason you doubt that is because of your grief. Talk to him. Right now he's the only one who can truly help you. You two need each other right now, more than ever."

Paul gently clasped her free hand. "You'll get through this," he told her softly. Trai met his gaze and looked away.

* * *

Maureen took her to Roger's loft after the meeting. She'd told Joanne what was going on, and Mimi and Joanne were babysitting Lauren and Rachel together, not wanting seeing the babies to bother Trai.

Roger made Trai some tea and then sat with her, rubbing her back. She drank gratefully, the hot liquid soothing her throat, raw from crying.

"I'm still thinking about the baby," she confessed as she set the teacup down. "I know that it wasn't even a baby when I lost it but I just wish… God, I wish _so _many things… I wish I'd found out sooner, that I'd gone to the doctor, that I'd told Mark…"

"Don't dwell on those things," Maureen reminded her softly. "It's no use."

Trai drew her knees up to her chest. "I named her Grace," she said quietly. "My mom named the one she lost before me… she said it helped her cope… I tried but it feels like nothing can… I just want him to fucking _talk_ to me," she whispered. "I hate that he won't even look at me... I feel so terrible about what happened and he hasn't said a goddamned word… he promised he'd help me but now he's been going back to his camera and he's drinking…"

Roger and Maureen looked at each other. _Shit_. Mark almost never drank when he was upset, unless he really wanted to close himself off. If he was drinking now, it definitely was not a good thing.

"Whoah. Whoah. He's been drinking?" Roger asked Trai, who nodded. "He got drunk two days ago," she whispered. "I tried to help him but he pushed me away…" She sounded distant, like she was talking without realizing that she was. Their concern for her deepened—they couldn't stand watching this happen to Trai and Mark.

Trai was crying again, shaking and sobbing as she thought of Mark and how he wouldn't talk to her, how he was closing himself off when she really and truly needed him.

Roger put his arm around her shoulders, while Maureen kneeled down and put a hand on her knee. "Relax, Trai… deep breaths… good girl, just keep breathing… oh, honey… oh, honey…" Roger whispered, pulling her close.

"Help me," Trai pleaded. "Help me fix this… _please_…"

"I'll help," Maureen promised immediately, and Roger nodded.

"We'll get you through this," he assured her quietly.

* * *

Later that night, Maureen headed over to the Life to find Mark.

Sure enough, there he was at the bar, staring mournfully into a mug of beer.

"Is this seat taken?" Maureen purred lightly.

Mark looked up, had to focus for a second. "Maureen? Um, no. Not taken. Sit down."

Maureen did as he said. "You want anything?" Mark asked. "I could order you a drink."

"No, I'm all right. I'm… I'm concerned, Mark. Trai told me you've been drinking."

Hearing her name, Mark flinched visibly. "Don't talk about her," he begged desperately.

"Mark, you don't get it... she's hurting, _bad_... shutting her out is _not_ the way to deal with this," Maureen persisted. "Mark, she wants to kill herself right now," she said quietly. "She wants what April did." Mark looked away.

Much as the boho gang considered April to be the start of all the shit they'd been through in '89 and '90, none of them could deny that they missed her. April and Maureen had been pretty close. Maureen had confessed to April that she'd thought she was bisexual, and April had promised to keep it a secret. When April fought with Roger, she'd go to Maureen to cool down. They'd gone drinking together a few times, and once, both drunk and curious, Maureen had kissed her. April hadn't minded, had later cited it as one of the high points of her year.

Both Mark and Maureen could remember how painful it had been to watch April get into drugs—and then drag Roger down with her. Maureen remembered the nights when April had come by the loft, obviously high; when she'd had to keep her away from Mark and Roger—there'd been many nights where Mark had to hold Roger through withdrawal, and Mark absolutely refused to have April come in the way of that. Until she'd become involved with Joanne, Maureen had helped take care of Roger as well.

The one night none of them could forget was the night Roger and Mark had found April…

Maureen pulled herself from her reminiscences. "Mark?" she asked quietly.

He didn't look at her, just talked into his glass. "Mo, you don't understand... after we broke up, I was amazed anyone wanted to go out with me. Trai and I have been dating for a while now; before... before everything, I'd—I'd been thinking about our future..." He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a jewelry box, passing it to her. She didn't have to open it, but asked anyway.

"Engagement ring?" she questioned softly, wanting to be sure.

Mark nodded. "Mo, I... I wanted to get married, to have kids... I can't believe we lost our baby... I still can't believe that I even got her pregnant in the first place; it all happened so fast... It was the most beautiful thing, even though we never meant it to happen… now it's fucking _gone_..."

She put a tentative hand on Mark's shoulder. "Talk to her, Mark."

Mark looked away. "I can't."

"Why not? Mark, I mean it. She's going to break, and if you're not there for her, she _will_ do something drastic. Please, Mark…"

"I can't even look at her anymore. Knowing that she was happy back in January and seeing how that changed. Knowing she thought I didn't want to keep the baby. Knowing that she was carrying _my child_ and now she's not! It's my fault!"

"It's _no one's _fault!" Maureen yelled, louder than she should have. Everyone in the Life looked up, and she winced. _Fuck._

Mark got up, stumbling a little from how much he'd had to drink. He tried to grab his jacket and scarf; his reflexes were impaired so he missed twice.

"Let me walk you home," Maureen called, running after him and grabbing his wrist as he left the Life.

"Don't bother," Mark said irritably, his words slurred. "If you care so fucking much, you'll fucking leave me alone."

* * *

"Trai, honey? How're you feeling?" Joanne asked softly as Trai let her and Maureen into the loft. She'd come to the loft with Maureen, concerned after hearing about what had happened a few days before, wanting to check on Trai.

Trai looked away. "Not much better than yesterday."

Joanne gave Maureen a concerned look. Maureen could guess why Trai was so upset—Mark had probably come home drunk that night she'd let him go. _Dammit. I should've followed him…_

"Do you guys want anything? Tea or something?" Trai asked from the kitchen. They didn't exactly trust Trai to be making anything with boiling water at the moment, so they both kindly declined. Trai returned from the kitchen with a glass of water for herself, sitting down on the couch. Her hands were shaking.

Maureen noticed the photo album Trai had opened on the table before her. She'd probably been filling it to keep her mind off things; there were photos strewn everywhere. In neat, precise numbers she'd written "1991" across the top of one of the pages. Maureen leaned a little closer to look at the photos.

A good few of them were of her and an older guy with dark hair and a bright smile. He was well muscled, tanned, though in some of the photos that were dated more recently there was a hint of pallor. _Danny_, she realized.

She looked at Trai, wishing she could somehow comfort her. She'd been through so much so fast, and Maureen didn't know what any of them could do. The only one who could reach her was Mark, and that had just turned out so fucking well…

"Has he said anything to you?" Maureen asked softly.

Trai shook her head and whispered, "No."

Maureen put my hand on her shoulder. "Honey, I'm so sorry," she said softly. "I'll get him to talk to you. I will."

"I don't even know if that'll help anymore," Trai said, sighing and turning to look out the window. "He won't… he won't even say anything. He just keeps drinking and filming and all that shit… meanwhile I haven't written anything in ages. I've hit a block. I can't write, I can't make up with him, I can't think, I can't _breathe…_ I can't breathe knowing he hates me," she whispered, putting her head in her hands.

"He doesn't hate you," Joanne said softly, putting her hand on Trai's shoulder. "He doesn't hate you, honey, you know that."

"You don't know what he's said to me. You haven't heard him when he's drunk."

"That's exactly it," Maureen said softly. "He's _drunk_, honey. People say shit they don't mean when they're drunk."

"I know that. I know that because Jason used to do the same thing, except he'd mean it," Trai snapped, pulling away from Joanne and getting up. "You have no idea what he did to me when he was drunk! _None!_ And now Mark's doing the same thing and I can't _deal _with any of this anymore!"

Maureen got up and put her hands on Trai's shoulders. "Honey. Honey, look at me. _Look_ at me."

She looked up, and Maureen noticed the tears in her eyes. "Honey, has Mark hit you?" she asked her, quietly.

Trembling, Trai pulled her hair back to reveal a day-old gash along her hairline. Maureen drew in her breath. "Jesus… what'd he do, Trai?"

"He was about to pass out, so I tried to stop him from drinking… we fought and he got me with the bottle after I'd broken it. I don't think he realized, or cared," she whispered.

Maureen looked at Joanne, who looked just as alarmed as she was. Intervention. They had to.

"You gotta try to make up with him, Trai," Maureen told her softly. "I know it hurts, but you have to try. You have to try and fix this."

"We can't go back to what we were, Maureen."

"I know, but still… you love him…"

"I do, but… but who's to say we won't rush in again? Who's to say we won't fuck it up like we did last time?"

"I am," Maureen told her softly. "Tomorrow night. I'm putting you and Mark in the same room, and you are going to talk. You're going to make up."

* * *

Mark was drunk.

_Fuck,_ Roger thought, looking at Maureen with worry and then looking at Trai.

"Guys, I can't do this," Trai whispered, gripping the kitchen counter so hard that her knuckles went white. She looked pale, like she was about to pass out. "I can't go out there, I don't know what to say to him… oh God… I'm gonna be sick…"

Maureen rushed to her side as she gagged and threw up in the sink, holding back her hair for her. She looked terrible, and Maureen knew the prospect of facing Mark, trying to reconnect with him, scared her badly.

"Sit," Maureen said calmly as she pulled her to a chair at the kitchen table and rinsed out the sink. Roger sat beside her and gave her a glass of ginger ale. It was the best he could do under the circumstances. "Take a breath, Trai. C'mon, breathe in," he soothed softly.

Trai shut her eyes and took a shaky breath, then another. Her eyes still closed, she whispered, "I can't face him, Rog… he's drunk…"

"I'll keep him in line," Roger swore. "I won't let him hurt you, Trai. I promise. I _promise_."

Trai pressed her hands to her eyes, shaking. Finally she took a breath and whispered, "Can you help me up?"

Roger took her hands and helped her up, guiding her to the living room. Maureen followed close behind, rubbing Trai's back.

Mark looked away as they came in. "Leave, Trai."

"No," Maureen said to him, then gripped Trai's arm as she started to bolt. "No," Maureen whispered to her. To both of them she said, "Look. It's been seventeen days and neither of you have said one fucking word to each other. Whether you like it or not I'm changing that."

Maureen gently pushed her so that she was standing in front of him. Trai took a shuddery breath and looked Mark straight in the eye, kneeling down in front of him when he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Mark, the first thing I have to say is… I'm sorry, Mark. I know that I haven't talked to you and I'm sorry. I just… I don't know if you can know, truly, how hard this is for me. I lost Danny and now… losing the baby… it hurts _so_ much, Mark. I know that you're the father, and that it hurts for you too, but… but I don't know if you can know how it feels to… to be carrying a life one minute and then losing it the next through some fault of your own… Mark, I'm so sorry…

"I… I love you, Mark. You're the best fucking thing to happen to me this year and I don't… I don't want to lose that over this. We can get past this, Mark, I _know_ we can… I know it…" She took his hands and laced her fingers with his. There were tears on her cheeks. "Please, Mark… please… talk to me… just… just take me back…"

"No," Mark whispered.

Startled, Trai looked up. "M-mark...?"

"No," Mark repeated, louder. He pulled his hands from hers and stood up. The sudden movement startled Trai, who fell back to the floor, looking up at him.

"Mark, why?" Roger asked him, moving to help Trai up.

"I hate you," Mark whispered to her. "I fucking _hate you!_ Do you even _know_ what this has done to me, Trai? Do you?"

"Mark, _please!_" Trai begged. "This hurts me too! You know it does! Mark, please, please, tell me why you don't want me… just tell me…"

"I don't love you."

Utter shock came over Trai, and she staggered. Roger caught her elbows and helped her stand, though he was feeling shocked himself.

Tears in her eyes, Trai whispered, "What?"

_"I DON'T LOVE YOU!"_ Mark shouted, his voice filled with rage and pain.

Stunned, tears running down her face, Trai pulled away from Roger, running into her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

Maureen whispered, "Mark, how could you say that to her?"

"Her fault," Mark muttered, fiercely shaking off Maureen's hand. "Everything is her fault."

"Get him into his bedroom," Roger whispered to Maureen. "I need to talk to her…"

Maureen got Mark to his feet while Roger tried the knob on Trai's door. Finding it locked, he did one thing he hadn't done since the day he'd come home to find April dead—rammed the door.

Trai glanced up sharply. She was crying, packing a bag. "Go," she whispered tearfully. "Please go."

"No. No, Trai. I'm not going. Mark doesn't mean it—I know he doesn't. _You_ know he doesn't!"

"He doesn't love me! He said he doesn't love me!"

"Trai, he loves you more than anyone else in the world! Trust me! I've known him for years and I have _never_ seen him as happy as he is with you!"

"I don't care," Trai managed through her tears, zipping her bag. "I'm leaving," she whispered.

Roger gaped at her. "What?" he whispered.

Trai shouldered her bag. "I'm leaving."

"You don't have anywhere to go!"

"I'll find somewhere," Trai whispered, looking away.

Her hands fumbling, Trai unlocked the window and started to climb out to the fire escape. Roger grabbed her wrist. "Trai, don't do this. Don't leave. Mark needs you."

"Not anymore."

"Trai, don't go," Roger whispered, almost pleading.

"Let go of me," Trai begged. "Just let me go… I'm leaving and I'm not coming back…"

Roger tightened his grip on her wrist, knowing he was probably hurting her and feeling guilty, but knowing that if she left, she and Mark wouldn't survive this. "You can't do this. Not to him. Not to this family."

Trai fought back fresh tears. "You're like a brother to me," she whispered. "Everything Danny would've done, you've done for me, and I love you for that… but I have to go, I have to leave…"

"I can't let you do this," he whispered.

Trai wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him for a second and kissing his cheek.

Then, her eyes burning with tears, a million words running through her head, she disappeared down the fire escape and out of sight.

* * *

**A/N- All right, with ten reviews for Chapter 19, I felt better and decided to update today :) Again, thank you guys for all sticking with the story, no matter where it goes.**

**Also, I'm actually really glad I didn't receive any flames. Though from all the reviews I'm getting, apparently I've only succeeded in depressing people. I… don't really know which is better.**

**"Breathe (2 AM)" is a song by Anna Nalick, without which this chapter would not exist.**

**Diva Actress- Aww, you'd continue to review even with a broken finger? I'm so honored, haha. And yes, there will be a sequel; I've titled it **_**Burning Up**_**. If all goes well, the first chapter will be up as soon as I post the last of this story! I may also write another story involving the kids about fifteen years into the future.**

**Midnightpopcorn- Well, it'll take some time for them to get over the miscarriage, but that's not to say that they won't have kids in the future.**

**Tina101- Yes, I did feel quite bad while I was writing this. :( But, things will end up okay.**

**Naginatamoon- Wow. Thank you so much for the compliment on my writing, and I actually sat there for a very long time debating what songs to use for this story. I'm very sorry to hear about your friend, but I do think "Far Away" is a beautiful song and a good choice for something like that.**

**Readerfreak10- Aww, I'm sorry. Again, I felt bad writing this chapter, but I was at least prepared for it; you guys weren't!**

**Bohemianxchicaxo- Here's the update, haha.**

**Grapetheape- Yes, well, all the more excuses to give poor Marky a hug:)**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- And again, your comments still amaze me. Thank you so much. While I always feel kind of bad when I make people cry, I do love to hear that I've been able to do that through my writing. I'm so glad you said that—it was exactly what I wanted to hear.**

**Scififreakmi- Thank you!**

**WENDYbird05- This story will be 24 chapters long and have a sequel (possibly two). And thanks for the review on **_**April Fools**_

**Well, that's all for now. Next update soon. Thank you all and have a nice day!**

**- Sally**


	21. Catalyst

Chapter Twenty-One  
Catalyst

Mark passed out on his bed after Maureen got him into the bedroom. He had no idea that Trai had left, and Roger wasn't sure how to break it to him.

Mark woke the next morning with a pounding headache and no memory of the night before. He stumbled out of bed and to the kitchen. Roger was there.

"Trai still sleeping?" Mark mumbled.

Roger winced inwardly. _Shit. He doesn't remember at all_. "Mark… she left."

Mark looked up quickly, ignoring the sudden dizziness and searing pain that it caused him due to his headache. "What?" he whispered.

"I tried to tell her not to… I _tried_, Mark… but she ran."

"Why? What—why would she—_why_?"

"Mark, you told her you didn't love her," Roger said quietly.

Mark blanched. _Oh God. Oh God no. What did I do?_

_Shit!_

_What did I do?!_

"I—I said that?"

"Twice," Roger whispered.

For the next week, Mark spoke to no one.

For the next week, there was no sign of Trai.

* * *

_Roger,_

_I'm safe, so you can stop worrying. _

_The one thing I ask of you is that you don't tell Mark I wrote to you. I can't forgive what he said to me… I've been telling myself I can't… I don't even know anymore._

_I love him, Rog. I love him and I love all of you. I miss Mark like hell, but I don't think I'm coming back._

_Don't tell anyone I wrote you. Please._

_I miss you. I still love you._

_Trai._

Roger read the letter once, then again. Wordlessly he folded it and slid it into his jacket.

The postmark read Los Angeles.

It was November.

Three weeks had passed since she'd left.

* * *

Forty-seven.

The dull thwap of the dishtowel, the repetitive motion of cleaning the bar, the buzz of chatter. All these served to distract Trai, as did her counting. She was washing the bar for the forty-seventh time that night. There was another thing in her line of defenses—painkillers. She wasn't exactly proud of it, but one of the waitresses had given them to her when she'd pulled a muscle in her leg. Though the pain had long since faded, Trai still found that the pills numbed her, made it so that she didn't have to think—and thinking was the one thing she couldn't afford, especially when her thoughts turned to Mark. To her home.

She'd found work as a bartender in The Laughing Irishman, a bar in Los Angeles. The owner, Merry O'Malley, had recognized in Trai the look she'd seen in many girls over the years—she was damaged, whether physically or emotionally. In Trai's case—with the scars lining her body, with the seemingly permanent sadness on her face—it was clear that for her, it was both.

"Boy trouble?" Merry had asked, sympathetically.

Trai had almost laughed. That didn't even begin to cover it. "Guess you could say," she'd said, quietly. "I miscarried a couple weeks ago."

The look on Merry's face had showed she understood completely. "Same thing happened to a friend of mine when I was about your age. I'm so sorry."

Trai hated pity. But this woman wasn't pitying her, she knew.

"You got the job," Merry had told her. "And there's a spare apartment upstairs—you can stay there."

"Mrs. O'Malley—"

"Call me Merry," the stout redhead had ordered her gently. "And it's no problem."

And so began Trai's new life in LA. Merry was friendly, and Trai had also gotten close to Walt Smith, a kind kid who reminded her a lot of Danny and Roger with his older-brother mentality.

Still, working in the bar brought back a lot. She'd met Jason while bartending.

* * *

_"Beer, if you would."_

_At 21 years old, Trai had seen her fair share of men. Still, this one was pretty damn gorgeous. Blond, blue-eyed, his nose broken one too many times, she liked him right away, and got him a Bud. "That's five."_

_He handed her a ten. "Keep the change, sweetheart."_

_Trai rolled her eyes and laughed lightly. "You got a name, slick?"_

_"Jason Cromwell. And you, _cher_?"_

_"Trai Buscemi."_

_"Interesting name. Short for something?"_

_"I could tell you," Trai purred, "but then I'd have to kill you."_

_"That's a pity. We wouldn't even get to have a first date."_

_This guy was flirting. But flirting was good, as long as the guy was at least somewhat good-looking. Flirting meant tips, and tips meant she could afford to pay the rent on the apartment she was staying in off-campus._

_He took a long swig of his beer. "So what's a beautiful girl like you doing tending bar in a shitty town like this?"_

_"I go to Dartmouth, slick," she laughed. "And it's character research."_

_"Actress?"_

_"Author."_

_"Ah, I see. Anything I would know?"_

_"I'm not published yet," she admitted with a blush. "I'm just being considered. My agent's pulling for me."_

_"So what's the book about?"_

_"Don't laugh."_

_"Why would I?"_

_"Trust me, you will."_

_"It can't be that bad."_

_Trai smirked. "Paranormal romance." She waited for the usual reaction—the clearing of the throat and a remark about some inane topic, usually how nice the weather was._

_Remarkably enough, that didn't come. "Wow. Never heard that one," he smiled. "And it's… interesting. I like it."_

_They talked for another hour or two. They had a lot in common, and she liked him—he was cute, charming._

_When closing time came, she turned to Jason and said, "Look, you've been drinking all night. Let me walk you home?"_

_He smiled. "Of course."_

_When they reached his front porch, he pulled her in close and kissed her._

_She was a bit taken aback, but not entirely displeased. He pulled away, touching his forehead to hers. "What do you say to dinner Friday night?"_

_"I say yes."_

_"Then I'll pick you up at eight."_

_

* * *

_

_"This is Trai Buscemi, my—Trai, can I call you my girlfriend?"_

Sitting on the couch with a beer, buzzed, unfeeling, Mark watched their entire relationship as he'd taped it. Right before their first kiss. The time he'd surprised her when she'd come out of the shower. Her birthday.

He looked for her smile. It was so much easier to remember her smiling. She hadn't smiled once since the miscarriage.

And now she was gone.

He barely slept. When he did, it was on the couch. He couldn't sleep in their bed—it was too painful. They'd made love in that bed. He'd held her through so many nightmares. He just couldn't sleep in that bed, to wake up in the morning, looking over only to remember all the nights she'd slept next to him.

Mark had cried himself dry. At least, so he thought, until he found something of hers—something she'd loved, or something he'd given her—and cried anew.

He'd been drinking more and more. He'd go to a bar, drink until cut off, and flirt. Other women expressed interest. He hadn't gone so far yet as to sleep with someone else, but he was getting there.

Mark buried his nose in his pillow, which he'd covered with Trai's old Dartmouth t-shirt. It still smelled like her, like her shampoo.

"_'Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair?/Or rather do I not in plainest truth/Tell you I do not, nor I cannot, love you?'_"

Mark's head shot up. It was one of the tapes he'd made of he and Trai rehearsing, so she could watch herself and correct her mistakes.

He'd told her he didn't love her. He'd told her he didn't love her anymore, and he did, so much.

_Why did I say that to her?_

_"Wait, wait,"_ Trai said on the tape. _"I messed up. Can we do it again?"_

_"Sure. From where?"_

_"Um… 'rather do I not.'"_

_"'Or rather do I not in plainest truth/Tell you I do not, nor I cannot, love you?'"_

Mark put his head in his hands and cried.

* * *

"Hey, you all right?"

Trai snapped back to reality as she heard Walt's concerned voice. The weight of the keys in her hand reminded her that Merry had asked her to close up, and so she finished doing so. "I'm fine."

Walt leaned against the wall as she began to wipe down the tables. "You've said that word so many times during the past month that it's lost all meaning."

"Walt, I assure you that I'm okay."

Walt shrugged. "If you say so."

Trai glanced up as she cleaned the last table. "You want to join me for some tea or something?"

"Sure."

Trai didn't want to admit that she was attracted to Walt, and that she knew he definitely was interested in her. Walt didn't know any specifics about her life back in New York, just that she was no longer with Mark and that she'd miscarried.

Trai still had feelings for Mark, but after what he'd said to her, she was… to say the least, she was confused. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to see him again.

They went up to her place, where she made the tea as promised. As she poured the tea, Walt tentatively asked, "Can I confess something to you?"

Trai glanced up. "Yeah, sure."

Walt cleared his throat. He was handsome—messy brown hair, gray eyes like Trai's. He cleaned up nicely, and he had promise—he was a law student, bartending, as Trai had, to pay off his parents.

"I'm—I think I might be bi," he confessed, in a rush.

Trai wasn't fazed; she'd had two gay or bi friends in college, one of them Angie. She still remembered the night Angie had come out, in a similar manner to Walt—Trai had been the first person she'd told, and it had been Trai who had been responsible for encouraging Norah, Angie's first girlfriend, to go out with her. Still, remembering Angie came with a price—the twinge of guilt Trai felt over not calling her.

_Don't think about that. Focus on this._

"You're not sure?" she asked.

Walt shook his head. "It's just a… I don't know. It's just what I've been feeling for the past few years."

"A few good friends of mine are bi. You'll figure it out—trust me. My best friend, it took her a couple years, too."

Walt looked at her and confessed, quietly, "I—I think I… might really like you…"

Trai leaned forward and covered his mouth with hers.

* * *

"You left, and you came back," Mimi said, hopefully, as she fed Lauren one evening, looking over at Roger as Lauren sucked her bottle. "You think she'll do the same thing?"

Roger sighed. True to his word, as always, he hadn't told anyone about the letter. Mimi was almost as concerned as he was. "Meems, I honestly don't know. You didn't see her—she was _crying_. He really sounded like he meant it, but I swear—God, if he doesn't love her, if she doesn't come back… they'll kill themselves."

It sounded drastic, but Roger knew that it was true. Mark was steadily descending into drinking—Roger wondered, somewhat morbidly but at the same time realistically, if it could turn into alcoholism. Trai had been distraught when he'd let her go, and her letter hadn't sounded too happy, either.

Mimi burped Lauren and then gently rocked her. "He needs her," she said quietly. "He's still drinking… more heavily than I've ever seen him."

"When I was in Santa Fe, I did a lot of shit I hadn't done since I played with the guys—smoking, drinking, almost went back to using once or twice," Roger admitted.

"You think Trai would do any of that?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Mark told me she got drunk a few nights when she was having a hard time—when she missed her brother, or when she had nightmares. She's fragile. Maureen told me she was worried Trai would end up like April… I am, too."

For him to say that, Mimi knew, meant that he was truly afraid for her. Mimi was, too—they all were. Out of everyone, Roger and Mimi had gotten the closest to her, and losing her had been, and still was, hard, on Mark and on themselves.

She placed the now-sleeping Lauren in the bassinet by the kitchen table and sat down beside her husband, putting her hand over his. "She'll be fine," she tried to reassure gently. "I'm sure she'll be fine."

Both of them knew that she wasn't sure at all.

* * *

Out of everyone, Angie Jamison searched the most fervently. She tried everywhere she could think of—Bay Shore, the most obvious choice; New Hampshire, where they'd gone to Dartmouth; Morrie's house, since Trai was a good friend to her agent's family and always welcome; a dozen or so haunts from when they'd lived together. She called hotels, motels, inns, all around the Tristate area.

Nothing.

Angie was desperate to find Trai. Trai was like the sister she'd never had, and, on a more personal level, her only link remaining to Danny. For the first two weeks or so after Trai's disappearance, Angie had met with Mark every two days or so, until he'd told her he couldn't do it anymore—it was too painful.

It had been Mark who had called her with the news. Trai hadn't even told her about the miscarriage, having been wrapped up too much in her own grief and her problems with Mark, and Angie had been shocked. Sure, she'd wondered why her friend hadn't showed up at the coffeehouse, but it hadn't fazed her; Trai had, on occasion, missed their weekly meetings and forgotten to call her.

Angie was the one who had told the Buscemis, after Mark had asked her to, telling her that she knew Trai's family better and that he didn't know if he could take them blaming him, though Angie assured him that they wouldn't. Still, Roseanna and Scott took it hard. Rosie somehow got it into her head that it was all her fault, and Scott was devastated. He'd always been close to his daughter, and he couldn't stand losing her—not after Danny.

Erica was saddened. Micah, in sharp contrast to the others, had actually gotten on the train to New York City, completely intending to fulfill his promise of physical harm to Mark. Trai was damn well family to him, even if they weren't related by blood, and the notion that Mark had hurt her this badly had enraged him. Still, his intentions dissolved as he found Mark, obviously distraught, standing in the middle of her room, looking… lost.

Angie's apartment was dark. It was three o'clock in the afternoon, but it was dark. The curtains were drawn, the lights were off. Angie was barely presentable, in a pair of plaid boxer shorts and an old t-shirt. She was lying on the couch when the knock at the door came. She didn't exactly feel like getting up, but she knew that she had to—there could be news.

When she opened the door, however, she found Micah, whose expression told her that there had been no news.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey," Angie murmured, absently flicking on the light switch and shutting her eyes for a second as the harsh fluorescent lights buzzed to life. "Come in."

She'd met Micah about six months after she and Danny had started their relationship. She'd gone home with Trai for the holidays, since her own family was on vacation, and also as an excuse to have time with Danny. Micah having known the Buscemis for years, he had been there, too, and since Micah was her boyfriend's best friend (though Micah hadn't known she was Danny's girlfriend), they were supposed to get along. Luckily, they had, and their friendship was solid even without Trai or Danny to go between them.

Micah glanced around at the coffee table as he sat down on the couch. There were empty cartons of Chinese lying around, scattered among photos—of Trai and herself, of Danny from when they'd first started going out. It was clear Angie hadn't been doing very well in light of her best friend's disappearance. "I take it she still hasn't called you?" he sighed, though he clearly knew the answer.

Angie nodded. "Nothing," she said quietly, her fingers absently tracing a stain on the coffee table left from a can of soda without a coaster. "I haven't heard anything."

Micah breathed out slowly. "Shit."

"No kidding."

Micah ran his hand through his long brown hair, a habit. "I just… I don't see _why_," he said, frustratedly.

"She lost a baby, Mic, what do you expect?" Angie reminded him quietly. "What would you do if that happened to you and Erica?"

"I'd take care of her," Micah said firmly. "Mark seemed upset when I found him and all, but I don't think he did anything to help her. I think that's why she took off."

In relaying what had happened to Angie, Mark had left out just what he'd said that had made Trai run. He trusted Roger's words that he'd said it, but he'd blacked out, and still couldn't remember that entire night. He didn't want anyone to know what he'd said. He was too ashamed.

"I just hope she comes back," Angie said quietly.

Micah glanced at another picture Angie had—a duplicate Danny had had of that picture Trai had kept on her nightstand, him and Trai together at Harvard that one Christmas. He'd already lost one best friend; he couldn't possibly stand losing another. "I do too," he sighed.

* * *

When she'd lost her son, Roseanna Buscemi had dealt with it in her own way. She'd found solace in housework, not letting anyone or anything come between her and anything that could possibly be cleaned.

Often, Scott had found her washing dishes at two in the morning, whether they were dirty or not, or sweeping in the attic in the middle of the day. Scott hadn't known what to do with himself. He resembled his daughter in that his way of dealing with emotions was simply to bury himself in other things—and, like his daughter, his choice was to read.

Scott woke in the middle of the night late in November to find his wife's side of the bed cold. He listened for the sound of water running and did not hear any, ruling out his first thought, that she was doing the dishes. When he listened further he thought he could hear noise coming from the room next to theirs—Trai's old bedroom.

Concerned, he got out of bed and made his way to the door in the dark, pushing it open and going into the hall. Sure enough, light leaked into the hallway from Trai's old room, whose door was slightly ajar. Scott delicately pushed on the door.

His wife was sitting by Trai's bookshelves, an old copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ in her hands. His daughter, Scott knew, had had at least more than one copy, since it was her favorite book; he remembered Danny presenting her with a new copy the night before she'd left for Dartmouth. Scattered on the floor by his wife were other favorites of his daughter—_Romeo and Juliet, The Count of Monte Cristo, Lady Chatterley's Lover, Interview with the Vampire, The Night Stalker._ But none roused such strong emotions in his wife than the old book she held in her hands.

Scott kneeled by Rosie, who was crying. "Honey?" he asked softly.

Rosie looked up, startled, the tears welling in her eyes making her husband's heart wrench. Trai knew how badly they'd grieved losing Danny—why had she had to leave, too?

"Scott, she's our little girl," Rosie whispered. "She's all we have…"

"I know," Scott whispered, coming forward and taking his wife into his arms. "I know, dear… but you know she'll come home…"

"No," Rosie said quietly, "I don't." She remembered all too clearly her own grief after her miscarriage, how it had haunted her even through her relationship with Scott, until they'd conceived Danny a year or two later. "Scott, I'm sorry, but you can't possibly imagine how hard this had to be on her. I can. She might not come back."

"You're right, I can't know," Scott said quietly. "But Rosie, she's our little girl. She'll come back."

Rosie picked up the copy of _Mockingbird_ and extracted what Trai had been using as a bookmark. It was a picture of the four of them—himself, Rosie, Danny, and Trai. They were at some water park. The kids were young, eight and nine, maybe. Scott remembered it distantly, twenty years having made the memories a fog.

"Look at them," he said quietly. Danny was healthy and happy, with his boyish good looks already apparent, his smiling face with no indication of the illness and tragedy that would befall him years later, his arm around his little sister. Trai, too, was smiling, her mouth streaked with the red of what appeared to be a Popsicle, which, on closer examination, Scott saw was clutched in her hand. Her blond hair was falling loose around her skinny shoulders, and she was wearing a flower-patterned bikini. He and his wife were so much younger, in their mid-thirties, with so much ahead of them…

"My god," he whispered. "Look at us…"

* * *

_"Speeeeeeeeeeaaakkk…"_

Hearing the answering machine, Trai lost her nerve, her stomach churning. She slammed the phone down and ducked into the bathroom, sliding down to the floor and leaning her head back against the sink.

"Fuck," she whispered tearfully.

It was two o'clock in the morning. To Trai, lost in her grief and conflicted feelings, the world seemed to stop, become silent.

It was anything but. In the bedroom, Walt slept on. They'd had sex only a few hours before, and while Trai had tried to convince herself that this was it, she was over Mark—she couldn't.

She still loved him.

She didn't know that at that hour, her parents were crying over her in Bay Shore.

She didn't know that Roger was lying awake, watching Mimi beside him. She didn't know that he got up and walked quietly into Lauren's room, where his daughter was awake but not fussing. He reached through the bars of her crib. His daughter grabbed one of his fingers and held on tight.

She didn't know that Mark was lying beside another woman. He, too, had slept with someone else.

He, too, realized that he was still in love with Trai.

He'd heard the phone ring, had gotten out of bed, preparing to answer it. He always answered the phone, knowing it might be news about Trai… and maybe even Trai herself.

He picked up the phone only to get a dial tone, the same dial tone that had sounded for Trai, thousands of miles away.

* * *

Her head ducked low, her hands shoved into her pockets, Trai walked into the Barnes & Noble the next town over late in the afternoon, having driven there after her shift in Merry's car.

Sleeping with Walt had been a mistake, she knew. It wasn't awkward at all between them—Trai had told him that she just wanted it to be a one-time thing, and he'd agreed—but she still felt guilty. She and Mark were broken up, but she still felt like she'd been unfaithful.

She walked slowly into the Romance section. Reading erotica written by other people was a bit strange, to say the least, even though she wrote it herself. Still, she sometimes went into the Romance section and picked up a novel when she needed to numb her mind, to think.

She turned her head and found a copy of _Love Always_ staring at her. Trai looked away. She'd seen her novels in bookstores before, but never when she'd been trying to block out the memories. She knew by heart the dedication to _Love Always: To Jase, with all my love._

Slowly, she reached up and let her hand drift. Fate, it seemed, was trying to tell her something—the book she pulled down from the shelves was _Martini Love_.

Closing her eyes, the book still in her hands, she leaned her back against the shelves.

"Ooh, have you read it? Is it good?"

Trai opened her eyes to find a wide-eyed brunette standing there, chirpy and smiling. "I'm sorry?"

"_Martini Love._" The brunette motioned to the book. "Her first book, _Love Always_, was awesome. I just found out about her new one."

Trai's author photo was from her sophomore year at Dartmouth, easily almost ten years ago. She'd changed since then, not to mention the fact that in the photo she was smiling—she hadn't smiled much since leaving the City. She was unrecognizable, even to a fan.

She managed a smile and handed the girl the book. "Actually, I have read it. I think you'll like it."

The girl smiled and opened the book, reading the dedication. "_To Mark. You are my everything._" She sighed, dreamily. "What d'you think it's like to have someone like that?"

Trai gave the girl's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Trust me… it's really not all it seems."

* * *

**A/N- Of course, _now_ all the reviews start pouring in, haha! No, I have to say I'm really pleased with the response I've been getting. Thanks, guys:)**

"**Catalyst" is another song by Anna Nalick without which this chapter would not exist. 'Tis pretty. Go check it out sometime!**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Thank you:) When I initially created Danny's character it didn't even occur to me how much he was like Roger, until at least a couple months had gone by! But then it occurred to me that Roger was sort of like her surrogate older brother since she'd met him right after Danny passed away.**

**LifeIsTooQuick- Haha, wow, thanks. Here's your update, I hope you had fun up north, and try not to let the story depress you too much in the future:)**

**Midnightpopcorn- I shall keep repeating that this will all end well!**

**Readerfreak10- Thank you!**

**Diva Actress- Wow, thanks. Hearing that means a lot to me. I haven't experienced any of these issues personally, so to get them right I've had to do a **_**lot**_** of research and reading. To hear I'm writing them well makes me happy :)**

**Grapetheape- I'm so happy you're so excited about the story :) And don't worry, the happiness is coming. Sooner or later.**

**Majorly-musical-marlee- Thank you so much!!**

**Scififreakmi- Thanks for sticking with me :)**

**Tina101- Ahh, my first death threat! Haha. –cowers in reinforced basement-**

**Bohemianxchicaxo- Yep, there's going to be a sequel called **_**Burning Up**_** :) Thanks for the compliment!**

**Mark's Maureen- -rolls eyes-**

**Well, all I can say is, thank you very much, my readers! Your support and love of this story really means a lot to me—it's been more than a year in the making! I really didn't anticipate getting this much of a response and I am **_**so**_** glad that I did. Thank you all.**

**- Sally**


	22. You Could Be Happy

Chapter Twenty-Two  
You Could Be Happy

He'd read once that often divorcees and widows sometimes rewatched their wedding tapes or looked at old photos, that things that had never appeared precious before suddenly seemed very much so.

Maybe that was why Mark kept Trai's room almost untouched, like a shrine. Why he'd found her hairbrush, a few blond strands still caught in the bristles, and almost cried. Why he obsessively rewatched the tapes of them and the footage he'd compiled for his documentary, as if she would appear before him if he watched enough times. Why he jumped for the phone whenever it rang, hoping to hear her saying, "I'm home."

The thing it did not explain was this—why, despite his obsession with these things, he stubbornly insisted on alcohol and women.

Why he'd woken up that morning lying next to the fourth woman he'd slept with since Trai had left.

Her name was Stephanie. She'd come into a bar after a crappy day, looking for a drink. She was single, or so she'd told him. He'd bought her a drink, got her talking. She was from Long Island originally—he'd tried to avoid thinking, _Like Trai._

She was a teacher. High school. He didn't know what subject—he hadn't asked. They'd been drunk enough not to really comprehend much more than going back to his place.

He hadn't gotten into any relationships—it was one night and one night only. If they noticed Trai's belongings, they didn't question.

It was December 23rd. Mark lay in a haze, his seemingly persistent hangover leaving his head aching, throbbing. His hand absently stroked the gray fabric of her old t-shirt, still covering his pillow. It was the way he'd stroked her arm after a nightmare, the way he'd rubbed her back when she'd cried.

Lying on the coffee table was the picture Roger had taken of them that day in the Park. Seeing her smile made him remember all the times she'd turned that smile on him.

He didn't know where she was. He didn't know if she was even happy—hell, as long as she wasn't with him, she probably was. He wondered if she missed Roger, Mimi, and Lauren.

Everyone except Roger had learned to leave him be. As a Davis, and also as Mark's best friend, however, Roger was notoriously stubborn, and so attempted, day after day, to stop Mark from destroying himself completely.

The knock on the door didn't move Mark. He just lay there. Frustrated—this was getting old—Roger pulled open the door. "Jesus Christ, Mark."

To put it simply, the loft was a mess. Strewn around Mark were Trai's papers, her typewriter, even notes she'd written to herself. Her personal shopping lists, with things like razors and tampons that she'd taken care of herself. Her conditioner bottle, because her hair had smelled like jasmine.

"Mark, what are you doing to yourself?" Roger asked him, quietly, wading through the sea of Trai's possessions.

"Do you even know what this feels like?" Mark demanded.

"Yeah, Mark, actually, for your fucking information, I do! Remember when Mimi ran away, Mark? Remember when she nearly _died_?" Roger demanded heatedly, his voice breaking on the last word.

_Shit_. For a moment, Mark had forgotten about that. "Rog, I…"

"Don't even." Roger sat down beside him. "Mark, you gotta stop doing this. This—" he gestured to the empty beer bottles and bottles of Scotch "—is why she ran, Mark. Because you drank, and because you acted like you didn't care."

"Don't tell me I didn't care. Don't tell me I didn't fucking care that she lost our—_our_—fucking child!" Mark yelled.

"Mark, how the hell could she have known that you cared? Because you did a fucking _fine_ job of shutting her out! She felt like she was alone! It was your baby, Mark, yours and hers! You had to grieve together, and instead you did _exactly_ what you did when Angel died!

"Mark, you wanna know if I meant what I said before I left for Santa Fe? Yeah, I'll admit I was pissed. But it's true. It is so _fucking _true! Goddammit, you'd think that a little fucking _grieving_ would fucking _kill you_! God forbid you should let her in!" Roger yelled. "Christ, Mark, did you ever even _cry_ in front of her?"

Mark thought. He could remember only three times—coming home to tell her about his mother, in his mother's hospital room, and when he'd held Trai after the miscarriage.

_Christ… am I that bad?_

He didn't know what to say.

His hand found the gold chain on the table, looped it through his fingers. Dangling from it was the interfaith symbol, a cross inside a Star of David.

"She wore this to Danny's funeral," he said quietly. "I saw the grave with her… she cried so hard…"

He tried to remember. The hardest he'd ever seen her cry had been over Grace. She'd cried for Danny, and sometimes, over her nightmares and bad memories.

He felt horrible. She'd made herself so vulnerable—had trusted him with seeing her cry, knowing that showing emotion had led to her being harmed in the past. She'd laid herself bare before him, and how had he repaid her?

Walls. Numbness. Alcohol.

Abandonment.

"Fuck," Mark whispered.

Then, louder.

"_FUCK!"_

Then he broke down in tears.

* * *

"Trai? Brighteyes, you okay?"

Trai looked up sharply. Martin, the ex-Marine and an old friend of Merry's, watched her with concern. Trai cursed inwardly as she felt the wetness on her cheeks—she'd been crying without realizing.

She forced a watery smile. "I'm fine, Martin. More beer?"

Martin eyed her suspiciously. He was older, at least in his fifties, his hair pure white but still full. His eyes were an icy blue, a lot like Mark's. "You're skirting the issue, brighteyes." He'd taken a shine to her since she'd started working at the bar, which was the reason for the nickname; he told her that she reminded him of his daughter. "You know if something's wrong, you can go to Merry and me?"

"Of course, Martin. I just—it's personal." She sighed and looked at the clock. 9:00 PM, Pacific. 12 AM, Eastern. _Mark would be asleep by—why do you even care, Buscemi?_

Christmas Eve had just dawned back home.

"_Five months and we'll be a year. And no one thought it would happen."_

Merry came to sit beside Martin. "Trai, honey, it's after hours. Lose the apron."

Trai dutifully removed her uniform and leaned against the bar. "God, I'm exhausted."

"Midnight, back where you're from," Martin observed. "Where exactly are you from, again?"

"Long Island. I talk like it, or so I hear."

"What was your boyfriend's name?" Merry prodded softly.

Trai sighed and said quietly, "Mark. Mark Benjamin Cohen."

She dug into her wallet and found a picture of him she'd kept there, one Roger had given her, of the two of them a few years before. She slid the picture toward them and pointed to him. "That's him."

Walt was wiping down the tables. As he passed by her, he reached out and gave her hand a friendly squeeze to comfort her.

Merry and Martin didn't know the whole story, but Merry had the feeling that whatever problem Trai had, it would be best if she went home to solve it. She prodded, "When'd you meet him?"

"A year ago, going by Eastern Time." She sighed, pressed her palms to her eyes. "Christmas Eve, 1991."

Slowly, she began to talk. She told them about bartending that one summer and meeting Jason by chance, because that was really the beginning of the story. About her brother Danny, and Holly and Micah. About Danny's diagnosis, Jason abusing her, the way Mark and Roger had gradually gotten her to trust men again. The tentative relationship with Mark, her nightmares, her panic attacks. Danny's death and Angie's scare. Passover. Mimi's pregnancy.

When she got up to the miscarriage, her voice broke. "I found out I was pregnant," she whispered, her left hand covering her eyes for fear tears would spill, her right running through her hair, as she leaned her elbows on the bar. "I needed advice; I went to Roger… w—we were going to tell him… a—and I passed out on the stairs… Roger had to carry me to the hospital… I… Christ, I lost our baby," she whispered.

Finally, when Trai finished, Merry put her hands over Trai's. "Honey… you still love him. I can tell—we all can. And trust me… he loves you. He _must_ love you. Go _home_, honey. Go home to your boy."

Trai wiped at her eyes. She missed Mark like hell. She missed Roger, Mimi, Lauren, Angie, Micah, Jane, her parents.

"I—I think you're right," she said shakily. "I'll… I'll go home."

Merry smiled softly. "That's a girl."

Trai packed her duffle full of her very minimal possessions, then went and hugged Martin and Merry, thanking them fervently for all they'd done for her. Merry told her to call whenever she needed someone; Trai gave her the tips she'd earned—she didn't need them. After some gentle coercion Merry finally accepted.

Trai hugged Walt last. She held onto him a little longer, whispered gently, "You'll figure yourself out," and then left.

Merry watched her leave and hail a cab to the airport. Martin, too, came to stand beside her. "You think she'll be okay?"

"She's a good kid," Merry said softly. "She'll be fine."

* * *

Trai took a red-eye flight to New York, arriving on Christmas morning. It was freezing cold, and there was snow on the ground. Having gotten used to the sunny, warm LA weather, this was somewhat of a change.

She managed to kill time until late in the day, lingering in the airport and reading one of the books she'd brought with her—Jane Austen's _Persuasion_—from cover to cover. It was a little eerie—the book was about two former lovers being reunited after a long separation. Granted, Trai and Mark had not been apart for eight years as Anne and Frederick had in the novel, but two months had sure as hell felt like longer.

Finally, Trai shut the novel and stared down at it, as if beseeching it to give her advice. _How am I supposed to go back there?_

_Does he even still love me?_

Trai pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

There was only one way to find out.

She put the book back into her bag, stepped out into the freezing air, and signaled a cab. The driver stopped and let her get in.

"Where are you headed?" he asked, in a thick Indian accent. Trai glanced at his ID and noticed his name was Chandra.

"11th Street and Avenue B. The old music factory," she specified.

The driver nodded and set off on his way. "Visiting family?" he asked, cordially.

"My boyfriend," Trai told him, playing with her sleeve. "I've… been on vacation."

"Where'd you go?"

"Los Angeles," Trai smiled a little. "Imagine my surprise, coming back to this weather."

The cabbie chuckled. "New York, New York," he smiled.

The drive took about twenty minutes, during which the cabbie regaled Trai with stories and asked her for some of her own. He was an older man, and had plenty to share in the way of advice. She left him smiling, and threw a couple dollars extra into the fare.

"Good luck with your boyfriend!" Chandra called as she got out and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder.

"Thanks!" Trai called back, and watched him as he drove away.

She shoved her hands into her pockets and stared up at the building.

She closed her eyes briefly and then opened them, walking resolutely into the building.

_Here goes nothing…_

* * *

Christmas Day.

For Mark, Christmas had always been pretty happy. But this year, he had to search, hard. He'd lost Trai. They'd lost their baby. He wanted kids so much, and their opportunity had become a nightmare, an emotional hell.

And now she was gone.

Still, he tried to be somewhat happy. Seeing Lauren and Rachel—Lauren being healthy, and Roger and Mimi so happy; and Rachel, what Jo and Maureen had wanted for so long—made him feel at least some happiness for his friends, even if his own chance at happiness had eluded him.

Now, they were all celebrating Christmas in Mark's loft. A small playpen was in the corner for Lauren and Rachel; the girls were in the kitchen; Roger, Benny, and Collins were talking and channel-surfing.

Mark was standing by the window, watching the snow, which had again begun to fall. Around his neck, with his own necklace and Star of David, was Trai's interfaith symbol. He absently stroked the metal with his thumb.

"Mark, it's freezing. How can you stand being by the window?" Roger asked, knowing perfectly well it wasn't that cold, and that Mark was lost in thought—the question was more to snap his friend out of it.

Mark snapped back to reality, realizing he was still holding Trai's necklace. "I'm fine," he muttered.

Roger got up and went over to him, put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Mark, you know I hate to say this, but… maybe you should—"

"Forget about her?" Mark demanded. "No. _No._"

There was a knock on the door. Fuming, Mark walked over and threw open the door to the loft.

What he saw stopped him dead.

It was _her_.

She had a duffle bag slung over her shoulder, the same one she'd ran away with. She was thinner, paler, a little more drawn than she'd been when she'd left.

"Mark," she whispered.

He couldn't explain what it was, exactly, that made him slam the door in her face.

* * *

**A/N- -shields self from torches and pitchforks- DON'T KILL ME! I like cliffhangers, and the happy ending **_**is**_** coming!!**

"**You Could Be Happy" is an **_**amazing **_**song by Snow Patrol that was the inspiration for this chapter. Initially, I'd only planned on "Breathe" and "Catalyst," but as I was walking home from school one day last year, this song came on my mp3 player and as I listened to the lyrics, I realized how much it fit Mark's thoughts. So, thank you Gary Lightbody :)**

**Anyone who can figure out why I named the cabbie Chandra, two points for you, haha. (It's a little obscure, but hey, you never know!)**

**Birdhearted- Well, hope this helped, haha.**

**Tina101- Hang with me for one more chapter! I promise! After that, we got the last chapter and the sequel!**

**Midnightpopcorn- It's coming! I swear!**

**Grapetheape- Haha, trust me, you've made me very happy already :)**

**Scififreakmi- Aww, thank you!**

**Reflectionette- Thanks :)**

**Diva Actress- Thank you very much! I'd only planned on showing Angie and Micah at first; the scene with Trai's parents and Trai calling Mark was a last-minute addition. And I'm still drafting the sequel at this point, but I'm hoping that it'll come out as good as I think I did with this one—plenty of drama there, too!**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Yeah, he's going to stop. Mostly it was just because he was lonely/depressed. And of course I'd have her come home! I wouldn't be **_**that**_** mean. I have too much fun with their scenes to break them up for good!**

**Naginatamoon- Wow. That **_**really**_** means a lot to me; thank you so much!**

**Readerfreak10- Thanks!**

**JustAnotherTeenageGirl- Hehe, thank you :)**

**Mark's Maureen- -sigh- You got some Marky, ya happy?**

**Data Girl 3- Roger wants to honor Trai's request and not tell anyone that she wrote him, plus, it would look a bit odd if he took off for Los Angeles without a reason.**

**All right, here's your update, go wild. After I post this I'll be typing up the last few pages and working on the sequel :) Maybe I'll just be mean and let you guys go without an update for a week or two… -wink-**

**- Sally**


	23. Maybe This Time

Chapter Twenty-Three  
Maybe This Time

"Trai! _Trai!_"

Just as he had the day she'd left, Roger chased after her as she attempted to flee down the stairs and back into the street, grabbing her wrist and then her whole body, keeping her from moving.

"Let go of me!" Trai gasped, attempting to struggle. "Roger, what the _fuck_—?"

"What the fuck am I doing? Trai, you've been gone for _two months_! The reason we're all here is because we're worried Mark is going to _fucking kill himself_! I'm not letting you leave!"

Trai wrenched herself away from him, shaking, trying very hard not to panic, remembering how Jason had forced her to keep still.

She drew in a few shuddery breaths, staring Roger down. He held her gaze, looking down at her, standing as he was a few steps above her, and with the advantage of being about half a foot taller.

The utter concern on his face calmed her down. It reminded her of how he'd looked the day he and Mark had found her in the alley, the day she'd lost Grace…

She sat down on the steps, holding her head in her hands. _"Fuck!"_

Roger sat down on a step two above hers, putting his hand on her back. "Trai—"

"Rog, I fucked up! He hates me now!"

"He doesn't hate you, Trai… trust me… he still loves you. He really does."

"Then why'd he slam the door in my face?"

"He doesn't know what to think, honey. He thought you didn't love him, that you'd left him for good. And now you're back. He's… confused. But he still loves you, Trai. That, I can tell you."

Trai buried her face in her hands. "I can't face him," she whispered. "I can't…"

Roger squeezed her shoulder, remembering her letter. "Honey… why'd you write to me, and not him?"

"Because I was scared," she said quietly. "I was scared of what he'd say to me… Rog, I did a lot of shit I don't want to think about… I slept with another guy… I drank… I took painkillers…"

"You didn't get addicted, did you?" Roger asked sharply. He calmed when she shook her head and whispered, "No… it already fucked up your life, and Mimi's, and Danny's…"

Roger rubbed her shoulder. "Talk to him, Trai."

"I can't," Trai whispered.

"Why not?"

Trai looked up at him, and he realized that she was crying. "Because right now, I could've been at the doctor's, hearing the baby's heartbeat," she whispered. "Because right now I could've been buying toys and paint and clothes… because right now I should be fucking _happy!_"

Roger took her face in his hands and made her look at him. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay. If you hadn't miscarried, you'd still be pregnant, and you and Mark would still be together. But you're not pregnant, and you and Mark broke up, and I want to help you."

Trai finally nodded.

"He's on the roof," he told her softly, pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. Trai took a shaky breath and finally stood.

Before he could get far, she reached out and hugged him. "I missed you," she whispered.

Roger hugged her back for a long moment. "I know."

* * *

Holding Roger's jacket close around her shoulders for warmth, Trai slowly climbed the stairs to the roof, and saw Mark standing by the edge.

Snow was falling all around him as he looked up at the sky. The snow muffled her approach, and as she stood a few feet behind him, she realized he was talking.

"What should I do?" he whispered.

_Angel_, Trai realized. _And April._ He talked to them like she sometimes talked to Danny.

"What can I say to her? I miss her… I want her back… for Christ's sake, I want _Grace_ back… how can I tell her I still love her…?"

Trai closed her eyes for a second, prayed. Then, she said, hesitantly, "You can say it again. To my face."

Mark whipped around, seeing his girlfriend—_ex-girlfriend?_—standing behind him in the snow, wrapped in Roger's aging leather jacket. He felt fury, shame, regret, elation—all of these formed a complicated mass, lodging his words in his throat.

Finally, he managed, "You're back."

"No shit," Trai said quietly, her hands shoved into the pockets of the jacket.

Mark sighed in frustration and turned away from her. "Goddammit, Trai, if you're going to—"

"I'm sorry," Trai said quickly. "I didn't…" Her voice trailed off, and then she whispered, "Mark, I'm sorry. For… for everything."

_But it's not your fault… it's mine…_

He didn't look at her still. She sat down slowly on the edge of the roof, waiting for him to speak.

He sat on the roof himself, a few feet away from her, keeping his distance. "Where'd you go?" he asked quietly, after a seemingly interminable silence.

"Los Angeles," she whispered.

"Why? Why'd you leave?" he asked, even though he knew.

"Mark, you told me you didn't care," she said quietly. "You told me you didn't care, and you didn't talk to me, and you seemed like you didn't care that I lost our baby. I left because—because I thought you wanted me to. Because I thought that maybe it would be better if I did."

Roger had been right, Mark knew. He hadn't shown what he was feeling, and Trai had suffered because of it. She hadn't known that he hid his emotions, that he dealt with them differently, and by the time Roger had told her, the damage had already been done.

He still wouldn't turn to face her. "I love you," he whispered finally. "I love you. And I would have loved our baby," he managed tightly, feeling tears building. "With you gone… it was like missing a limb. You weren't just gone away on vacation or something; you were _gone_. And I didn't know how to deal with it. We lost our baby, and I lost you, in the space of two weeks. And it was my fault. All of it. How did you expect me to live with that?" he whispered. "How did you expect me to live without you here?"

"How did you?" Trai asked him quietly, running her fingers over the brick she was sitting on, her fingers making small patterns in the dusty snow.

Mark didn't want to say it, but he knew he had to. They both had to come clean. "I drank. I slept with other women. I watched every tape I'd ever made of us."

Trai sighed. "I tried to write. It didn't help. I drank, too. I took painkillers just so I didn't have to think. And I… I slept with someone else too… I shouldn't have, but I did…"

They'd both done so much. They both didn't know how to begin. But Mark had to.

"I didn't mean what I said," he whispered, finally turning to face her. "I didn't mean it, and I am so, _so_ sorry… Trai, I love you, trust me, I never stopped loving you… and I know you wish you hadn't lost Grace; I wish that too… I know you thought I didn't care, but I do, so fucking much… I—I wanted to have a baby with you," he told her, trying to breathe past the constriction in his chest. "And when they told me that you were pregnant and that you'd lost it all in the same day, I—I couldn't take it. I just couldn't. And I said shit to you, and I'm so goddamn sorry… forgive me. Please forgive me. Just… just say something. Anything. Please…"

Trai had tears streaming down her face. She pressed her finger to his lips and moved closer to him, sniffing and whispering, "_'And even for that do I love you the more…'_"

Mark pulled her into an embrace, kissing her passionately, holding her close and running his fingers through her hair. She kissed him back just as deeply, closing her eyes, and when they broke apart, gasping, she touched her forehead to his and whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry… everything I did to you, leaving you…"

"Shh, shh… let's forget about it," Mark whispered, stroking her cheek. "Okay?"

Trai put her hand over his, running her thumb over his hand. "Okay," she whispered, kissing him again. "Okay."

* * *

They headed back down to the loft together. The loft was completely silent; the tension obvious. Even Lauren and Rachel were quiet, though they couldn't know what was going on. Everyone was waiting to know what was going on up on the roof.

Roger was pacing anxiously, wondering if he'd been right in making Trai go up there so quickly. Mimi got up and stopped him from pacing, putting her hands on his shoulders, as if to say, _They're fine._ Roger sighed and stood still, but still worried.

Finally, the door opened. Everyone tensed.

But Trai and Mark came in together, both of them looking happier than anyone could remember them being in the past three months, holding hands. Before anyone could ask about what had been said on the roof, Mark wrapped his arms around Trai's waist and kissed her.

Everyone smiled and looked around at each other, relieved. Roger and Mimi kissed, as did Maureen and Joanne. Even Benny and Collins looked relieved, though they didn't know Trai as well as the others.

No one asked Trai where she'd gone or what she'd done. They were just glad to have her back. Trai gave Roger back his jacket, stood on her tiptoes to whisper, "Thank you," in his ear. Roger smiled and squeezed her shoulder in response.

Mimi was leaning against the window. Trai looked at her and said quietly, "I'm really sorry I took off."

Mimi waved her hand. "I understand… trust me."

Trai smiled, just a little, relieved that Mimi wasn't angry or upset with her. "So… how's Lauren?"

Mimi smiled, too. "Your _niece_," she gently corrected, making Trai smile, "is doing wonderfully. Here." She led Trai over to the playpen and picked up the five-month-old, putting her in Trai's arms. Trai had to smile—she had Mimi's dark brown eyes, but the blond hair was all Roger's. She looked down at Rachel and then to Maureen and Joanne, smiling slightly. "She kinda looks like you, Mo."

Maureen beamed. "Doesn't she?"

Joanne laughed. "Oh, perfect. Just what we need…"

Standing across the room, Mark watched Trai as she played with Lauren, a soft smile playing on his lips. He knew then that, when they were ready, they'd try again to have a baby.

After everyone left, Trai stretched out beside him on the couch and whispered, "I love you, Mark."

Mark chuckled softly. "I know. Trust me. I love you too."

She looked at him closely. "Do you remember what I said all those months ago, about the duck pond?"

Mark smiled. "You said you wanted to get married there, if we ever got to that."

"Do you want to go back there tomorrow? Slightly belated anniversary celebration?"

Mark grinned. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd really like that."

* * *

As if the universe was alert to the novel that had brought them together, the pond had frozen over just like in the book. It was the day after Christmas, and almost no one was in the Park, but they were taking a walk anyway.

"God, I missed New York," Trai whispered. She was dressed in heavy sweatpants and a maroon sweatshirt a few sizes too big for her, with HARVARD printed across the front.

"Was this Danny's?" Mark asked, dressed in a sweater, coat, and jeans himself.

Trai nodded. "I came up to visit him as a surprise one Christmas. It was freezing and he gave me this to wear. He… he told Angie to put it aside for me." She rubbed her arms. "Almost a year, now," she said quietly.

Mark squeezed her hand. "You've held up really well. And if you want to go see his grave, you know I'll come with you."

Trai gave a watery smile. "You sure you can handle Micah threatening you again?"

Mark snorted. "He came to my door when you were gone! Probably would've killed me if he hadn't realized I was upset!"

"Dear God, he really came after you?" Trai started to laugh. "Oh, Christ, he was serious… he was really serious…"

Mark smiled, seeing her laugh, even if it was sort of at his expense. After the miscarriage she hadn't laughed once. He wrapped his arm around her waist. "Next year… smile more. Laugh more. You're so beautiful when you do."

"You too, you know. Sometimes you're so serious. Lighten up a bit."

Mark chuckled. "I will if you will."

"Deal."

They sat down on a bench after clearing off the snow—a bench almost exactly like the one she'd been sitting on when they met. Trai smiled and ran her finger over his stubbled jaw. "My Holden," she said softly.

"You gonna put that in the wedding vows?" Mark laughed, teasingly.

"I just might," Trai teased right back. "I was serious, though; if we ever get married—and I really think we will—we're totally doing it here. This bench."

"Was this bench even where we met?"

"Hell, I don't know. If it's not, it is now."

"Well, we have the tape to prove it," Mark chuckled, but bent to inspect the grass not covered by snow. "No, no, I definitely remember that blade of grass; it was definitely here."

Trai laughed again, and Mark smiled, watching her. "You are such a smartass," Trai chuckled.

"Hey, you're the one who called me Holden Caulfield," he laughed, grinning.

Trai kissed him for a long moment. "God, do I love you…"

* * *

She stared at the phone for a long moment, then decided not to, just yet. She couldn't face her parents—she needed a little more time.

Angie, she could handle.

It was time for their Friday coffee. She knew Angie would be there—it was such a habit for both of them that they each still went there even if the other was on vacation.

Dressed in a sweater and jeans, Trai took the short walk to the coffeehouse. Through the window, she caught a glimpse of Angie's red hair.

Trai had been a usual for five years, after she and Angie had moved to New York together after Dartmouth. Betsy, their waitress, had been working there for seven. She'd waited on them the first time they'd come, and the next time, and the next. Trai and Angie were _her_ customers, and hearing about Trai leaving had hurt.

The bell ringing over the door made Betsy look up. Force of habit, years of practice, had made her memorize Trai and Angie's schedule—they met around 11 o'clock every Friday morning. Despite Trai's absence in the months before, she still looked up every time the bell rang at 11 o'clock on a Friday.

Betsy gasped. _"Trai?"_

Angie turned sharply, stunned, speechless. "Tr—"

"I'm back," Trai whispered. "I'm… I'm home."

Angie stood, not knowing what to say. She caught Trai's gaze, and they watched each other for a moment before Angie stepped forward and pulled Trai into an embrace.

Trai hugged her friend back tightly, just glad to have her back again. She'd missed Angie so much, and she was so glad to be back.

When Trai finally pulled away, she whispered, "I'm sorry I didn't call you about everything… I was just so upset; I wasn't thinking…"

"I understand, honey," Angie said softly, leading her to their usual couch and sitting her down. "I get it. I really do."

Betsy came over and handed Trai her usual coffee, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Trai smiled at their waitress and thanked her.

Trai sipped at the coffee and admitted, "I went to LA. When he told me he didn't love me, I ran. I wasn't thinking. I got to the airport, bought a ticket for the earliest flight. I just wanted to go somewhere—_anywhere_—far away from here," she sighed. "I thought that it would be better if I left."

"It really did kill him, you know," Angie told her. "When I went to see him in the first couple weeks… he was a mess without you."

Trai unconsciously rubbed the back of her neck. "I feel so bad for taking off, but I didn't know what else to do. We hadn't spoken in over two weeks. I thought he didn't love me. But… but we're back together now, and that's all that matters."

Angie nodded. "I'd say so," she smiled, a little.

They decided to go take a walk after they left the coffeehouse. Angie decided to broach the subject neither of them had been touching.

"It's almost been a year since Danny."

Trai glanced away. She knew that even if she hadn't gone back to New York to make up with Mark, she wouldn't have been able to stand not being in New York for the anniversary of Danny's death. She missed her brother still, and though the pain of losing him had lessened, just a bit, it still hurt to have lost her closest friend.

"I know," she sighed. "I know that it killed my parents that I was gone. It's why I haven't called them yet. I think I will… tonight. They're probably still worried."

"Did you want to… you think maybe we should go to the cemetery soon?" Angie asked slowly. "I… I haven't been there since the funeral. I couldn't do it."

"I'll go with you," Trai said softly, finding her friend's hand and squeezing it. "I want to."

* * *

It seemed that parental reconnection was to be the theme of the evening. It was late at night, and Trai had fallen asleep after her phone call to her parents, who were extraordinarily glad to have her back. Mark had watched her sleep for a while, still trying to convince himself that she was really back for good.

He took the receiver of the phone and eased out of bed, gently kissing her forehead and then leaving the bedroom, shutting the door behind him before he dialed the number back home.

He'd gotten used to calling late at night; it was the only time his father was guaranteed not to pick up. He and his mother had settled into this routine during Trai's absence. Since Mark had not called in a few days, he knew that his mother had probably guessed something was going on.

"Hello?"

Mark tried not to smile. "Mom. It's me."

"Hi, Mark, honey." She noticed the difference in his tone right off. "How're you doing?"

"I'm great," Mark smiled. "I'm… I'm wonderful, actually."

"Is it because…?"

"She's home," Mark confirmed softly. "She came back on Christmas. We made up."

"Oh, honey, that's wonderful!" Jane sounded relieved; clearly she'd been hoping for Trai's return just as much as Mark. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine. We've… we've gotten past losing Grace. We still feel badly, of course, but it's not keeping us apart anymore. We think… we think we might want to try for a baby, when we're ready."

"That's great, Mark." Jane was smiling. "That really is great. You'll make a wonderful father."

"You really think so?"

"I know you would. Just like I know Trai will be a great mother."

Mark smiled. "Thanks, Mom."

"It's the truth," Jane said gently. "Call again soon, okay?"

"I will. Love you, Mom."

"I love you too."

* * *

**A/N- Sorry this took a little longer guys!**

**"Maybe This Time" is a song from _Cabaret._**

**AuburnTiger- Haha, it's okay, I'm glad to have gotten a reaction!**

**Tina101- There, they're made up:)**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- -shields Mark- He was angry! Although I do think he was kind of an ass. Which is my fault, but still. –slaps Mark around some-**

**Bohemianxchicaxo- Haha, sorry!**

**Grapetheape- Oooh, I'm glad you like it so much! Yay!**

**Scififreakmi- Shock, really. He was just angry at her.**

**Readerfreak10- I take it you're a bit surprised, haha.**

**Birdhearted- Wow! Good job; didn't think anyone would catch the Heroes reference :)**

**Diva Actress- Well, I'd hope I didn't get flames, and I actually haven't gotten one the whole time I've been writing this. So, I'm glad. Thanks for the compliments :)**

**Mark's Maureen- Oy vey.**

**LifeIsTooQuick- I'm planning on tying up everything; the sequel is going to be an entirely different conflict.**

**Sundrynotes- Thank you!!**

**Meagan Shierling- Wow, thank you so much! Also, thanks for following :)**

**Next update soon depending on how fast I type. Keep your eyes open!**

**- Sally**


	24. Perfectly Marvelous

**Well, my lovelies, this is a short chapter, but this story has come to an end. However, the first chapter of the sequel, **_**Burning Up**_**, is now up, and I do hope you all will enjoy it!** **Dedication—I forgot to do this in the beginning; I'm terribly sorry. But, this story goes out to Steph, aka Mark's Maureen, my real-life close friend. We've known each other for almost two years, and she read the original, very sucky drafts of this story and encouraged me to keep going.**

**Thank you so amazingly much for all the reviews and support, and a special thanks to the 22 of you that have this story on their favorites, and the 37 of you that have this story on alert. That means so much to me!**

**Oh, and because some of you might've been wondering about the title?**

"_**I think they meant it/When they said you can't buy love/Now I know you can rent it/A new lease you are, my love, on life/Be my life…"**_

_**--"I'll Cover You"**_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four  
Perfectly Marvelous

"3… 2… 1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The cheers that erupted over Times Square were deafening, but everyone was oblivious. It was officially 1993. There was snow on the ground, and the air was freezing, but none of them could feel it at all.

As soon as the word "one" had left his lips, Mark had pulled Trai to him in a long, passionate kiss. She melted against him, surrendering to the rush of emotions that she still felt during every kiss since their reunion—happiness, hope, love, everything. She was so glad to have him back again.

She sighed contentedly as she pulled away, breathless, her face flushed, and murmured, "Happy New Year, Mark."

Mark kissed her cheek, holding her by the waist so that she was close to his body. "Happy New Year, Trai," he whispered into her ear.

With Lauren being taken care of by Roger's mother and Rachel by Maureen's, the boho gang was free to party, and party was what they planned to do. They'd gone to Times Square as they had the year before and the year before that, this year with one more—Trai.

It was barely a year since she'd joined them, barely two months since she'd left, only a week since she'd returned. And yet she had become part of the family. No one denied that it had been a tough year for Trai and Mark, but everyone agreed that they were glad that Trai and Mark had finally made up.

1992 had been a landmark year, even in the terms of the bohemians. There had been new lives, and lives lost. Mark and Trai alone had begun their own romance, ended it, and begun it again, all in the span of twelve months. There was love, and anger, and guilt, and joy.

Despite the turbulence of the year past, Trai and Mark weren't thinking about it as they walked back to the building, Trai's hand in his.

"You had me worried," Trai remarked. Mark had forgotten his camera and gone back to get it at 11:30, not coming back to join them until 11:45.

"Sorry," Mark said with a sheepish blush, though he was hiding a smile. A glance at Roger's expression showed he was doing the same. "Won't happen again."

"It better not."

Mark pecked her cheek. "I promise."

"Annnnd… no padlock!" Roger laughingly announced as they came to the door. Benny rolled his eyes, as if to say, _You're never going to let me live that down, are you?_

Everything was set up in Mark's loft, and so they headed up the stairs. Mark opened the door—and when she saw the interior of the loft, Trai gasped.

Candles were lit everywhere. Roger and Mimi's slight smiles revealed that they knew where they'd seen this before—Christmas Eve of 1989, when their own relationship had started.

"Mark, what're you—?" Trai started to question where all this had come from—it had not been there when they left—when shock made her break off, for Mark had taken a jewelry box from his coat and gotten down on one knee, taking her hands.

Even Mimi was surprised. A glance at Roger—and at the grin spreading across his face—told her he'd already known.

Already, Mark was smiling.

"Trai," he began, "I love you. I love… I love everything about you. Every time I feel like I know you by heart, you come up with some way to surprise me.

"A year ago, I was convinced that I'd never find anyone to spend my life with. A year ago, I didn't think that by this time next year I'd've fallen for this… this beautiful, amazing, stubborn, crazy writer."

He was stumbling over his words, just a bit, nervous beyond belief, his stomach in knots. He watched her face, encouraged by her expression, which was ecstatic.

"Trai, a year ago, I couldn't picture spending my life with anyone. And… and now, a year later, you are the only one I can picture spending my life with."

Trai was crying from happiness. The others watched, holding their breath.

Mark opened the box. The ring inside glittered in the light from the candles, promisingly.

Promising love.

Promising _happiness._

Mark looked up at his girlfriend and whispered, "Tracy Roseanna Buscemi, will you marry me?"

Trai was speechless for just a moment, paralyzed from shock and joy and the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

When she finally regained her voice, her answer was an emphatic, _"Yes!"_

Mark leapt up and pulled his now-fiancée into an embrace, dipping her low to the floor in the first kiss of their engagement. As they kissed, he took the ring from its box and slid it onto her finger.

When they broke apart, their tears mingling on each other's cheeks, Trai could only stare into his eyes, whispering, "I love you, I love you so much…"

Mark kissed her again, tenderly, and whispered, "I love you too."

They pulled apart slowly, and saw that the others were just as happy as they were. Mark smiled and nodded inside. "Champagne, anyone?"

The agreement was unanimous. Wrapping his hand around his fiancée's, Mark led everyone into the loft and closed the door.

1993 had officially begun.

* * *

**A/N- Again, everyone, thank you so, so much for the love and support LFR has received. I love each and every one of you that reviewed; this story alternated between driving me crazy and keeping me sane.**

**The sequel, **_**Burning Up**_**, is already up and running. Run wild!**

**"Perfectly Marvelous" is yet again from _Cabaret,_ the song Trai sings to Mark earlier in the story.**

**LifeIsTooQuick- Thank you very much:) I hope this is satisfying. If not, there's always the sequel!!**

**Sundrynotes- Haha, thanks! Yep, Trai has been the project of a year's worth of notes and revisions and a **_**lot**_** of time and thought! You may have noticed that a lot of things in her come from myself, but she's also been sketched from a **_**lot**_** of research, talks with friends, and the occasional caffeine high:) I also love all my other OCs dearly (Angie, Danny, Micah, etc.), hence the OC drama.**

**Scififreakmi- Thanks:)**

**Tina101- Haha, yup, they're fixed. And wait 'til you read the sequel…**

**Srgirl6889- Wow, thanks for reading all that in one day! My kudos to you! Oh, yes, I really do enjoy writing Roger myself. Believe it or not, until I started roleplaying, I did **_**not**_** like Roger at all! RPing changed my mind and led to the Roger you see here :)**

**Readerfreak10- Hehe, thanks!**

**NotEASYbeingGREEN- Yay, I'm glad you're all happy now! Haha, yep, Trai and Mark are happy, but they are **_**definitely**_** not out of the woods (check out **_**Burning Up**_** and you'll see what I mean!). And I think I had Roger call Trai honey before—it was mostly because he was concerned for her and trying to comfort her.**

**Birdhearted- Thanks :) I have friends who went/are going to see Anthony and Adam! I've met Anthony twice, actually; he signed my copy of **_**Without You**_** and a little thingy they gave us at the concert of his I went to. And, I kid you not, I am paler than he is. We compared hands!**

**Diva Actress- Thanks! Now have fun with the sequel!**

**Lena- Wow. You gave me one of those reviews that make my day. As I've said before, I love writing my OCs and even characters that aren't mine, and trying to do this as realistically as possible—and I'm glad to hear I've pulled that off. Thank you so, so much, and enjoy the sequel!**

**Thank you so very much, my lovelies. See you in **_**Burning Up!**_

**- Sally**


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